I will sound
him for you with pleasure, if you care to instruct me,
but I cannot see that I can give you his address."
"Very well," said Jim, and put his hat on. "Rather a
strong step, isn't it?" (Between every sentence was a
clear pause.) "Not think better of it? Well, come, call
it a dollar?"
"Mr. Pinkerton, sir!" exclaimed the offended attorney;
and, indeed, I myself was almost afraid that Jim had
mistaken his man and gone too far.
"No present use for a dollar?" says Jim. "Well, look
here, Mr. Bellairs--we're both busy men, and I'll go to
my outside figure with you right away--"
"Stop this, Pinkerton," I broke in. "I know the
address: 924 Mission Street."
I do not know whether Pinkerton or Bellairs was the
more taken aback.
"Why in snakes didn't you say so, Loudon?" cried my
friend.
"You didn't ask for it before," said I, colouring to my
temples under his troubled eyes.
It was Bellairs who broke silence, kindly supplying me
with all that I had yet to learn. "Since you know Mr.
Dickson's address," said he, plainly burning to be rid
of us, "I suppose I need detain you no longer.
Pages:
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267