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Updated: April 30, 2025
"I shall try and make up the deficiency," said Grant, smiling broadly, as the boy climbed to his shoulder. "Won't you come in? Linder, among his other accomplishments learned in France, is an excellent chaperon." "Thank you, no; I must get along. I shall call early in the morning, so that you will not be delayed on Wilson's account." "No need of that; he can ride to the field with me on Prince.
I do not do as other people do, which is the unpardonable sin. To Linder I am a jester, to Murdoch a fanatic, to our friend the real estate dealer a fool; I even noticed my honest carpenter trying to ask me something about shell shock! Well they're MY whims, and I get an immense amount of satisfaction out of them." The days that followed were the happiest Grant had known since childhood.
Linder sprang to attention, gave a salute in which mock deference could not entirely obscure the respect beneath, and set about on his commissions, while Grant devoted the afternoon to a session with Murdoch and Jones, to neither of whom would he reveal his plans further than to say he was going west "to engage in some development work."
When Linder awoke him it was noon. "You sleep well on your Big Idea," was his comment. "No better than you did last night," retorted Grant, springing out of bed. "Let me see.... yes, I still have it clearly. I'll tell you about it sometime, if you can stay awake. When do we eat?" "Now, or as soon as you are presentable.
Grant had been generous about it; he had asked her to be equally generous about the episode of the stakes.... And there was something about the man that appealed to her. She had never felt that way about Transley or Linder. She had been interested in them; amused, perhaps; out for an adventure, perhaps; but this man Nonsense! It was the environment the romantic setting.
"'Look in the next day's papers for the result." Setting his telephone receiver down the Honorable William Linder lost himself in conjecture. He had just given an appointment to his tried and true, but quite impersonal enemy, Mr. Horace Waldemar. "What can Waldemar want of me?" ran his thoughts. "And who is this friend, Jones, that he's bringing? Jones? Jones!
"You're the amateur detective who scared the Honorable William Linder out of the mayoralty nomination," said he, shaking hands. "What are you going to do to me?" "Give you some racing news to read, Governor." The governor took the advertisement proof and read it carefully. Characteristically, he then re-read it throughout. "You think this is meant for me?" he asked, handing it back. "I do.
Although it did not cry "Excelsior," its output of vocables might have been mistaken, by a casual ear, for that clarion call. What the Honorable Mr. Linder actually shouted was: "Getthehelloutofhere!" The performer upturned a mild and vacant face. "What you say?" he inquired in a softly Teutonic accent. The Honorable William Linder made urgent gestures, like a brakeman. "Go away! Move on!"
"I have it!" he shouted. "Linder, I have it!" The sergeant sat up with a start, blinking. "I have it!" Grant repeated. "THEM, you mean," said Linder, suddenly awake. "Why, man, what's wrong with you? You're more excited than if we were just going over the top." "I've got my great idea. I know what I'm going to do with my money." "Well, don't do it to-night," Linder protested.
It didn't snuff me out in my youth and innocence, anyway. Just the same, I'm admittin' it's bad medicine in onskilful hands. Here's ho!" The glasses had just been drained when Mrs. Transley entered the room, flushed but radiant from a strenuous half hour in the kitchen. "Well, here you are!" she exclaimed. "So glad you could come, Mr. Grant. Why, Mr. Linder! Of all people This IS a pleasure.
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