Page:Vance--The trey o hearts.djvu/128

104 "You bet your life they is—right here. An' I'm shuttin' it up, too. Call around at eight o'clock to-morrer mornin'."

"But I must send a telegram now," Alan protested. "It's a matter of life and death."

"Sure, young feller. It always is—after business hours."

Alan thrust a hand into his trousers-pocket. "Will a dollar influence your better judgment?" he suggested.

"Let's see your dollar," the other returned, open incredulity informing his countenance.

Alan brought forth an empty hand. "Make a light," he said sharply. "My money's in a belt round my waist. Open up your office. You'll get your dollar, no fear!" Peremptorily he shouldered past the agent and entered the station; he quickly made good his word, unbuckling an oilskin belt beneath his shirt and extracting a fold of banknotes that struck sparks of respect from the agent's flinty arrogance.

"All right," he grumbled. "Write your message. It ain't often I do this, but I'll make an exception for you."

Alan delayed long enough only to make a few inquiries, drawing out the information that the quickest way to any city of importance was by boat across Buzzard's Bay to New Bedford. Boats, it was im-