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"Good boy, Don," said I approvingly; "what's the next train to West Sedgwick, and how long does it take to get there?" "You kin s'lect the ten-twenty, Mr. Burruz, if you whirl over in a taxi an' shoot the tunnel," said Donovan, who was rather a graphic conversationalist. "That'll spill you out at West Sedgwick 'bout quarter of 'leven. Was he moidered, Mr. Burruz?" "So they tell me, Don.
But at what figure was he buying? No one came near me, not even the butler. It was ten-twenty before the bell rang again. "Hello! This is Mr. Davis's office. Is this Mr. Colton? Tell him Mr. Davis says L. and T. is one hundred and fifty now and jumping twenty points at a lick. There is the devil to pay. Scarcely any stock in sight and next door to a panic. Shall we go on buying?"
Maitland paused on the forward deck of the craft and faced about, looking the cabby trustfully in the eye. "I leave it to you," he replied politely. "Just as you please." The driver gasped. "You see," Maitland continued with a courteous smile, "I have two engagements: one at Sherry's, the other with the ten-twenty train from Long Island City. What would you, as man to man, advise me to do, cabby?"
"Yes, but that means ten-twenty," he answers, "you have nearly an hour." Five minutes later he taps you on the shoulder. "My mistake, it's twenty to ten. I was thinking it was the other way about." Another argues with him that his first idea was right. They work it out by scientific methods. Meanwhile you have dived into a cab.
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