“And he got right into the University?”
“Bless you, no; only tentatively. He had a 46 lot of back work to make up at the academy. That didn’t bother him apparently. He swallowed that and the regular course whole and cried for more.” Armstrong stretched lazily. His hands sought his pockets. “I guess that’s about all I know of the story,” he completed.
“All except after he was graduated.” It was interest genuine now.
“So you have begun to take notice at last,” commented Armstrong, smilingly. “I’m a better raconteur than I imagined. When it comes to being specific, though, after he graduated, I admit I can’t say much authoritatively. He’ll talk about anything, ordinarily, except himself. I know of a dozen cases from the papers, some of them big ones, that he’s been concerned in during the last few years; but he’s never mentioned them to me. He seemed to get in right from the start. How he managed to turn the trick I haven’t the slightest conception; he simply did. As I said before, he grows to be more of an enigma to me all the time.”
Apparently the girl lost interest in the party under discussion; at least she asked no more questions and, dilatory as usual when not definitely directed, Armstrong dropped the lead. For a minute they sat so, gazing out into the night, 47 silent. Under stimulus of a new thought, point blank, whimsical, came a change of subject.
“By the way,” commented Armstrong, “I’m considering quitting the University and going into business, Elice. What do you think of the idea?”
“What—I beg your pardon, Steve.”
The other repeated the question, all but soberly this time.
“Do you mean it, Steve, really, or are you just drawing me out?”
“Mean it!” Armstrong laughed. “Perhaps, and perhaps not. I don’t know. What do you think of the notion, anyway?”