hurry."

"No, I ain't in any special hurry. So I get up to Caroline's in season
for supper--er, dinner, I mean--I don't care. But I don't want to keep
you. You're a busy man."

"This is business. This way, Captain."

The big lounging room of the club, on the first floor, Fifth Avenue
side, was almost empty when they entered it. The lawyer drew two big
chairs near the open fire, rang the bell, and ordered cigars. After
the cigars were lighted and the fragrant clouds of tobacco smoke were
rising, he reopened the conversation. And now, in an easy, diplomatic
way, he took his turn at questioning.

It was pretty thorough pumping, managed with the skill of an experienced
cross-examiner. Captain Elisha, without realizing that he was doing so,
told of his boyhood, his life at sea, his home at South Denboro, his
position in the village, his work as selectman, as member of the school
committee, and as director in the bank. The tone of the questioner
expressed nothing--he was too well trained for that--but every item of
information was tabulated and appraised.

The tall mahogany-cased clock struck three, then four. The lawyer
finished his cigar and lit another. He offered a fresh one to his guest,
but the offer was declined.

"No, thank you," observed the captain. "I've been yarnin' away so
fast that my breath's been too busy to keep this one goin'. There's
consider'ble left yet. This is a better smoke than I'm used to