"Man, man, it's a matter of millions! Panama Trading Company common stock is quoted at 70, and everything depends upon the passage by the Senate of the canal treaty. The committee must have come to a decision, and Morrison knows. I tell you he knows—he knows. One word—it would be enough—Wall Street—Panama common—"
Indiman did not answer; he seemed preoccupied, indifferent even, his chair pushed back from the table and his eyes half closed. Let me explain that the small side-tables in the Utinam Club dining-room are not set flush against the wall, as is usually the case, but at some little distance from it. Consequently, when there is a party of three at a table, one man sits on the inside with his back to the wall, a sensible arrangement in that it allows the waiter free access by the unoccupied outer side of the table. It so happened that Indiman had this inside seat.
Harding's lips moved mechanically. "The treaty, the treaty!" he repeated again and again. "The committee reports to-morrow; the Senate is certain to act upon its recommendation. If I only knew!"
The conference at the other table was a brief one; its continuance had been measured by the consumption, on the part of the Senator, of a couple of biscuits and a glass of spirits-and-water. The two men rose and left the dining-room.
"Of course you are going back to-night, Senator," said the younger man as they passed our table.
"At midnight. A hard trip."
"But a profitable one; don't forget that." They laughed and walked on.
For a little while we sat in silence over our cheese and salad. Then Indiman spoke up, suddenly:
"Mr. Harding."
The young man looked at him dully.