"Ah, good morning, gentlemen," hailed John C. Rhinds, halting and holding
out his hand. Fred Radwin, too, beamed cordially upon the enemy.
"'Morning," replied Jacob Farnum, ignoring the outstretched hand of
Rhinds. Radwin's ready-made smile, too, was overlooked, as the Pollard
submarine party filed by into the breakfast room.
"I don't believe they'll waste any make-believe cordiality on us, after
that," grimaced Mr. Pollard, as he dropped into a chair at a table.
Fifteen minutes later a stout, rather short, middle-aged man entered the
breakfast room in haste. He spoke to the head waiter, who pointed out
the table at which the submarine party sat.
Then the head waiter came over with a card and a letter which he handed
to Farnum.
"'Mr. Walter C. Hodges,'" read Farnum, from the card. Then, glancing at
the envelope "'Introducing Mr. Hodges.' It's from Judson, proprietor
of the hotel where I stop when in Washington," continued the shipbuilder,
as he glanced through the letter. "He asks me to extend any possible
courtesies to Mr.
Pages:
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144