"
"And I've got to get him to them, somehow. Now, if you could go
in and give him a message from someone who wanted to meet him
on business ,"
"Hold on!" said the boy. "I know a trick worth two of that. You go
in and see old Ugli. He'd give his ears to have the old boy out of
the way for a day or two. They were saying so in our office only
this morning."
"Let me think," said Gerald, laying down the last bun on his knee
expressly to hold his head in his hands.
"Don't you forget to think about my five bob," said the boy.
Then there was a silence on the stairs, broken only by the cough of
a clerk in That's office, and the clickety-clack of a typewriter in the
office of Mr. U. W. Ugli.
Then Gerald rose up and finished the bun.
"You're right," he said. "I'll chance it. Here's your five bob."
He brushed the bun crumbs from his front, cleared his throat, and
knocked at the door of Mr. U. W. Ugli. It opened and he entered.
The door-mat boy lingered, secure in his power to account for his
long absence by means of his well-trained nose, and his waiting
was rewarded. He went down a few steps, round the bend of the
stairs, and heard the voice of Mr. U. W. Ugli, so well known on
that staircase (and on the Stock Exchange) say in soft, cautious
accents:
"Then I'll ask him to let me look at the ring and I'll drop it. You
pick it up.
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