"Maybe you ain't noticed me in the office, but
I'm there. Private sec. to the president of Mutual Funding. My desk
is beyond Mr. Robert's, in the corner."
"Oh, yes," says Adams; "I remember you now. And I suppose I may as
well tell you as anyone. For the fact is, I'm about at the end of my
string. I must get some money somewhere."
"Ye-e-es?" says I, sort of cagey.
"Did Bob send any by you? Did he?" suddenly asks Adams.
"Some," says I.
"How much?" he demands.
"A hundred," says I.
"Bah!" says he. "Why, that wouldn't-- See here; you go back and tell
Bob I need a lot more than that--a couple of thousand, anyway."
I shakes my head. "I guess a hundred is about the limit," says I.
"But great Scott!" says Adams, grippin' his hands desperate. "I've
simply got to--"
Then he breaks off and stares again towards the door. Next he steps
across the room soft and jerks it open, revealin' the classy Nivens
standin' there with his head on one side.
"Ha!" snarls Ham. "Listening, eh?"
"Oh yes, sir," says Nivens. "Naturally, sir."
"Why naturally?" says Adams.
"I'm rather interested, that's all, sir," says Nivens.
"Oh, you are, are you?" sneers Ham. "Come in here."
He ain't at all bashful about acceptin' the invitation, nor our starin'
at him don't seem to get him a bit fussed.
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