“I’ll keep a stiff bridle arm. Say, Nagar, have you stopped to think how I happen to be here to-day?”
“Tell me, please.”
“One hanging sock.”
“I do not understand.”
“One hanging sock. It was that which made me go out into the reception room in the first place, that day you brought the story to The Public Square. I heard the office boy say to J. H., ‘He keeps pulling up his sock.’ I went out to see. So that’s what made me go to Harrow Street, and meet Miss Claes and the rest and go to Africa, and come here. I believe that’s what started the World War.”
Nagar laughed. “I always had such trouble in the early days with American clothing. I would get one part working and another would give way——”
“But, Nagar, what made it so imperative for you to have the two hundred that day?”
“A ship was leaving within twenty-four hours for the Mediterranean to connect with South African ports. Mahatma-ji was greatly in need of funds to carry on his work.”
“I thought you were ill—possibly starving.”
“I was ill from strain—self-consciousness. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do—to stand up against America in the office of The Public Square.”