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Henry, O., 1862-1910

"Strictly business: more stories of the four million"

And now, if you've finished your coffee,
suppose we match one of your insufficient coins for the impending blow
of Fate. What have I up?"
"Heads," called Ives.
"Heads it is," said Forster, lifting his hand. "I lose. We forgot to
agree upon a plan for the winner to escape. I suggest that when the
waiter comes you make a remark about telephoning to a friend. I will
hold the fort and the dinner check long enough for you to get your hat
and be off. I thank you for an evening out of the ordinary, Mr. Ives,
and wish we might have others."
"If my memory is not at fault," said Ives, laughing, "the nearest police
station is in MacDougal Street. I have enjoyed the dinner, too, let me
assure you."
Forster crooked his finger for the waiter. Victor, with a locomotive
effort that seemed to owe more to pneumatics than to pedestrianism,
glided to the table and laid the card, face downward, by the loser's
cup. Forster took it up and added the figures with deliberate care. Ives
leaned back comfortably in his chair.
"Excuse me," said Forster; "but I thought you were going to ring Grimes
about that theatre party for Thursday night. Had you forgotten about
it?"
"Oh," said Ives, settling himself more comfortably, "I can do that later
on.


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