“How soon can I start?” he said.
“Four or five hours.”
“I’m obliged to you.... Fallows seems still with me,” he said strangely.... “I must see Nevin——”
There was a ringing in his brain at some unused door, but he did not answer. He was driven again. Harrowing the idea of waiting a single day ... in these modern hours when world-events are so swiftly forgotten.
Everything was settled. Morning was taken from place to place in a cab. Noyes not only was conscientious about seeing to every detail for Friend Fallows—but he made it very clear that he was not accustomed to spend his evenings down-town. From time to time, he dropped hints of what he would be doing at home at this hour. Down-town nights were all put away for him, he declared.
The balance of the manuscript was locked in the safe at the Western States to be set up to-morrow, and proofs sent out. The second and possibly third installments of the story would go to the World-News by telegraph, the rest follow by mail.
“To-morrow morning, out in the mountains, you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that New York is reading Field’s story which we ran to-day. Is that stuff the Doctor gave us, right, Morning?”
“Huh?”
“Did you dream about that sorrel mare—entrails out—walking like a man—white death in her eyes?” Noyes pursued.
“God, I wonder if I did? Did I dream that I did the big story twice?——”