McChesney took the little yellow envelope from the
salver that the boy held out to her. Her quick glance rested on the
written words. She rose, her face colorless.
"Not bad news?" The two men spoke simultaneously.
"I don't know," said Emma McChesney. "What would you say?"
She handed the slip of paper to Fat Ed Meyers. He read it in silence.
Then once more, aloud:
"'Take first train back to New York. Spalding will finish your trip.'"
"Why--say--" began Meyers.
"Well?"
"Why--say--this--this looks as if you were fired!"
"Does, doesn't it?" She smiled.
"Then our little agreement goes?" The two men were on their feet,
eager, alert. "That means you'll take Fromkin's offer?"
"It means that our little agreement is off. I'm sorry to disappoint
you. I want to thank you both for your trouble. I must have been crazy
to listen to you for a minute. I wouldn't have if I'd been myself."
"But that telegram--"
"It's signed, 'T. A. Buck.' I'll take a chance."
The two men stared after her, disappointment and bewilderment chasing
across each face.
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