Cosden glanced at his watch. "I have an appointment with Thatcher at eleven on that little business proposition. We're to meet at the 'Hamilton.' I've just about time to keep it. As for you, I suggest that you invite Miss Stevens to show you the way to the Devil's Hole. They have a wonderful collection of fish over there, which the Scotch keeper puts through their paces every little while whenever he needs the money. I commend your attention to the bachelor-fish: it has a bad disposition, makes itself obnoxious to its fellow-creatures, and would be sarcastic in its conversation if it had the power of speech."
With this parting shot Cosden made his excuses to Miss Stevens and walked over to the "Hamilton." His spirits had improved immensely within the past half-hour, and the proximity of his appointment caused him to forget for the moment that his vacation trip thus far had distinctly bored him. To Cosden a vacation consisted, as Henry James would have described it, of "agitated scraps of rest, snatched by the liveliest violence." On other occasions, when he sought relaxation, he had found it in strenuous physical exercise; in the present instance he had intended to engage himself in the more unfamiliar occupation of offering a partnership to Merry Thatcher in the "Cosden Social Development Company, Limited," although he had not expressed it to himself in just these words. In this expectation he had so far signally failed. Had he been a baron of old he might have seized the prospective bride bodily and made off with her to his ancestral castle, but, even with the handicap imposed by modern civilization, now that the diverting influence had been eliminated, he believed the opportunity was nearer to the point of offering itself. The fact that Thatcher had turned to him in this proposition, whatever it was, not only pleased him as a further evidence of recognition, but supplied him with an agreeable outlet for his pent-up energy.
Cosden had told Huntington that Thatcher was a "big man," and his friend, having learned his business vocabulary, understood what was meant by this designation: Thatcher was a man of substantial means, held influential positions on important boards, and wielded a power in the financial circles in which he moved. Cosden had been far-sighted, he told himself, to have happened upon the scene at this particular juncture, for Thatcher would scarcely have gone out of his way to invite him to join in the enterprise except for the coincidence of their meeting; and Cosden was not averse to being included in the Thatcher group of operators.
Thatcher was awaiting him on the lower piazza when he arrived at the "Hamilton."
"I wanted to have a few words with you before we join this promoter person up-stairs," he explained, "so I sent Stevens on ahead to tell him we are on our way. Duncan is the man's name. He's a Scotchman who has lived down here for many years. He has little education, and you could cut his brogue with a knife."
"I won't object to his brogue if his signature is any good at the foot of a check," Cosden interrupted.
"He doesn't come in on that end," Thatcher continued. "The idea is his, and he can be of service later on if we proceed with it. It isn't very large, and we can finance it easily if the thing is worth taking up at all. The scheme is to fit Bermuda out with a trolley system, and to bring the right tidy little island down to the twentieth century."
"Not a bad suggestion," Cosden commented,—"and a great improvement upon the present system of bicycling." Billy would have rejoiced had he known how stiff his adversary's legs were after the famous ride to Elba Beach. "Why hasn't some one thought of it before?"
"Duncan will tell you the story as he has told me," Thatcher said rising. "Come, let us go to him now. Ricky will have exhausted his vocabulary by this time."
Cosden smiled at the mention of Stevens' name. "He's a curious fellow,—Stevens," he remarked. "With that vacant expression on his face he ought to make a corking poker-player. Is he interested in this deal?"