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Updated: June 17, 2025
What the thirty feet were for I don't know, but " "And I don't care to know," interrupted Tom. "If you spring any more of those beastly dry figures Say, there comes something that does interest me, though!" he broke in with. "Look at those cars take that turn!" "Some speed," murmured Garrigan.
"Beastly fine day, eh, what?" exclaimed Bruce Garrigan, as he set down on a tray a waiter held out to him a glass he had just emptied with every indication of delight in its contents. "If it had been made to order couldn't be improved on," and he flicked from the lapel of Tom Sharwell's coat some ashes which had blown there from the cigarette which Garrigan had lighted.
He had even formed a liking for Bruce Garrigan, who, offhand, informed him that the amount of India ink used in tattooing sailors during the past year was less by fifteen hundred ounces than the total output of radium salts for 1916, while the wheat crop of Minnesota for the same period was 66,255 bushels. All of which information, useful in a way, no doubt, was accepted by Jack with a smile.
I came up on business I have a business in New York you know, in spite of the fact that I am here," and the colonel smiled as he looked about the room where were gathered men of wealth and leisure, who did not seem to have a care or worry in the world. "Oh, yes, I know that," agreed Garrigan. "Well, has your trip been satisfactory?" "I can't say that it has.
"Perhaps," was the admission. "But I'd like to see him win. And, for the sake of saying something, let me inform you that in Africa last year there were used in nose rings alone for the natives seventeen thousand four hundred and twenty-one pounds of copper wire. While for anklets " "I'll buy you a drink if you chop it off short!" offered Sharwell. "Taken!" exclaimed Garrigan, with a grin.
You haven't found out what caused the death of Mr. Carwell?" "Oh, yes, I know what killed him." "But not who?" "Not yet." "Do you hold to the suicide theory?" "I don't hold to anything, my dear Mr. Garrigan," answered the colonel, who was in a sufficiently mellow mood to be amused by the rather vapid talk of his host for such he had constituted himself on the ordering of the drinks and cigars.
"What is it?" asked his companion. "That you kindly refrain from telling us how many spools of thread were sent to the cannibals of the Friendly Islands for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1884." "Done!" cried Garrigan with a laugh. "I'll never hint of it. Colonel, will you accept our hospitality? I believe you are already put up at the club?"
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