I
tell you I shouldn't have known you again."
Burton was suddenly white. Mr. Waddington plunged in.
"Dry old stick, the professor, anyway, from what I've heard," he said.
"Now don't you forget, Mr. Bunsome. I shall be round at your office at
ten o'clock sharp to-morrow, and I expect to be let into the company.
Three beans I've got, and remember they're worth something. They took
that old Egyptian Johnny--him and his family, of course--a matter of a
thousand years to grow, and there's no one else on to them. Why,
they're unique, and they do the trick, too--that I can speak for. Paid
the bill, Burton?"
Burton nodded. The two men shook hands with Mr. Bunsome and prepared
to leave. They walked out into the Strand.
"Got anything to do this afternoon particular?" Mr. Waddington asked,
after a moment's hesitation.
"Not a thing," Burton replied, puffing at his cigar and unconsciously
altering slightly the angle of his hat.
"Wouldn't care about a game of billiards at the Golden Lion, I suppose?"
Mr. Waddington suggested.
"Rather!" Burton assented. "Let's buy the girls some flowers and take a
taxi down. Go down in style, eh? I'll pay."
Mr. Waddington looked at his companion--watched him, indeed, hail the
taxi--and groaned.
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