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Updated: May 26, 2025
It was thus, and apparently by the merest chance, that Gantry found him; a chance because the Winnebasset club-house is spacious and the dinner dance minimized the hazards of a meeting between two unattached men who were merely transient guests. But the railroad man at least was unfeignedly glad.
As a railroad man, continent-crossing travel was to him the merest matter of course. Though he might Sunday-over at the Winnebasset Country Club on the North Shore, it was well within the possibilities that the following week-end might find him sweltering in New Orleans or buttoning his overcoat against the raw evening fogs of San Francisco. "Never been west of Chicago?" he echoed.
"The boss?" questioned Blount. "Yas, I said the boss; now hold your jaw!" Blount caught at the word. In a flash the talk with Gantry on the veranda of the Winnebasset Club flicked into his mind. "There is only one boss in this State," he countered coolly. "And I am very sure he hasn't given you orders to kill me." "What's that?" demanded the spokesman.
Evan told of the meeting on the veranda of the Winnebasset Club, adding the further fact of the college friendship. "Just happened so, did it?" queried the older man, "that getting together last Saturday night?" "Why yes, I suppose so. Dick knew I was in Boston, and he said he had meant to look me up." "I reckon he did," was the quiet comment; "yes, I reckon he did.
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