He volunteered, eager to oblige a man of
such large affairs as his substantial friend.
"I'll write you a check. You can just run in to the nearest bank with
me and indorse it, Mr. Mitchell. Sorry I haven't the cash with me."
Thus Steve, his clumsy innocence eluding the toils with all the grace
of an agile hippopotamus.
The grafters glanced at each other. But Mitchell was equal to the
emergency.
"No need to bother you, Mr. Thompson, thanks, all the same," he said
suavely. "Archibald, just give me what you've got and I'll run over to
Jersey City with John. Traffic Manager of the Pennsylvania is a friend
of mine. If he's in his office I'll get it of him. Otherwise, I'll
start John on, and wire balance to him at St. Augustine when I get
back. Wait a minute, John. Got plenty of time to catch the boat. Look
here, Archie--you're not busy, are you?"
"I'm always busy," said the shipowner gayly, "but no more so to-day
than any other day. Why?"
"Oh, well, you can get off. I promised Thompson, here, to do him
the honors, and now I've got to help John out. Oh, you two are not
acquainted, are you? Ex_cuse_ me! Mr. Archibald, Mr. Bickford--Mr.
Thompson, Mr. Bickford. Mr. Bickford's father was a dear old friend of
mine. Once very wealthy, too, but has had reverses.
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