“I don’t see any objection to it,” replied the engineer.
“Didn’t think you would,” answered Jim with a laugh. “Never knew you to refuse a meal yet. If I remember rightly there’s a restaurant just around the corner where we can get something to eat and get a chance to map out our plans. The cooking isn’t quite up to the Delmonico standard, but it is good and there is plenty of it.”
“Well, that means there’s enough of it such as it is,” said the engineer, “but I guess I can stand it if you can. Lead on, Jim.”
Jim led the way around the corner, not, however, without casting a glance back and walking for several doors past the place he had spoken of. Then, after looking about him, he retraced his steps and entered the restaurant, which was an unpretentious place on a side street.
“There’s a table over there,” he said, indicating one in the rear of the room, “that will suit us. We can see all who come in and won’t be conspicuous ourselves.”
“What’s all this mystery, Jim?” asked the engineer, when they had taken their seats and given their order.
“I have a feeling that that Mexican imp of deformity, Manuel, isn’t far away, and we can’t afford to take any chances.”
“You are right there, Jim,” responded Berwick heartily. “That chap gives me the shivers. He’s more like a snake than a man.”
“That’s just it. He’s so confoundedly slippery, it almost seems that you never can get a hold on him, and if you did, what can one do with such a miserably deformed body? Ugh!”
“One never feels easy when he’s anywhere about,” admitted Berwick.