A very dignified colored man, wearing an immaculately clean apron, had opened the door and was standing with a large suit case in his hand.
“Bring it down and chuck it into the car,” commanded Victor.
“An awful lot of stuff for a short trip,” remarked Tom. “You ought to throw out half.”
“Fade away,” retorted Victor. “There’s another one coming.”
“Mercy!” snickered Tom. “Why don’t you bring a department store along?”
Hannibal made short work of depositing the heavy suit cases in the tonneau. Then, grinning broadly, he drew forth a letter and handed it to Charlie Blake.
“It am just come, suh,” he explained.
“The handwriting spells Kirk Talbot’s name as loud as those checks on Victor’s cap, fellows,” cried Blake.
“Kirk Talbot?” queried Tom, interestedly. “We met Kirk often on one of our trips. Remember, Bob?”
Bob did, and smiled.