almost as quickly he was
by his side.

"Good morning, Mr. Seymour."

Without any haste, Seymour's grip was in his hand, and with no conscious
volition on his part, Seymour was threading his way at Winston's side
through the throng of disembarking passengers, those waiting for
incoming friends, curious loafers, and rattling express trucks.

"Have you had breakfast?" Winston hardly paused, as they left the
station and came out upon the gravelly, palm-fringed walk.

"Yes, and a good one too. The dining service has improved. Couldn't do
much better in New York."

"That's a good deal for a New Yorker to say. It's worth money to the
road; at least, it would be if they got hold of it."

"What's the program for today?" Mr. Seymour dropped pleasantries.

"If you're not tired, we'll go to the office at once. They are expecting
us."

"Will Mr. Berl be there?"

"No. Not today."

"Hasn't he been notified."

"No."

"Why?" Seymour asked sternly.

"This, and much more, will come out at the meeting."

As Seymour swung along beside Winston, there was a meditative smile on
his face. He was not accustomed to receiving curt answers to his
inquiries. He had been watching Winston narrowly, and his first
favorable impressions were being strengthened. Besides, he had lost no
confidence in his own ability to take care of himself. They reached the
office and entered.

Winston handed Seymour's grip to a waiting boy, and, without further
ceremony, entered the private room. Uncle Sid and Helen were already
there.

"Mr. Seymour, I think you have met Miss Lonsdale?"

Seymour greeted Helen with conventional affability; she was conscious of
a piercing, though momentary, glance that seemed to read every nook of
her soul.

"Captain Harwood, shake hands with Mr. Seymour." Winston made use of the
hearty Western formula.

"Pleased to do so, Senner."

"Senner" was Uncle Sid's version of the stately Spanish senor, which had
greatly taken his fancy. Neither the cordial "senner," nor the beaming
smile, hid from Seymour the rectangular lines of the wrinkled face.

The party seated themselves, and before there was a suggestion of an
embarrassing pause, Uncle Sid broke in. His glance shot from face to
face then rested on Winston.

"We're cleared for action. Mr. Winston, it's your watch."

Seymour glanced appreciatively at Uncle Sid.

"You're naval, I see."

"Aye, aye, sir; from main truck to orange groves."

Winston began to sp