"I'm going over to the laboratory. See you there as soon
as you can get over."
"Craig," I remarked an hour or so later as I sauntered in on him,
hard at work, "I don't see how you stand this feverish activity."
"Stand it?" he repeated, holding up a beaker to the light to watch
a reaction. "It's my very life. Stand it? Why, man, if you want me
to pass away--stop it. As long as it lasts, I shall be all right.
Let it quit and I'll--I'll go back to research work," he laughed.
Evidently he had been waiting for me, for as he talked, he laid
aside the materials with which he had been working and was
preparing to go out.
"Then, too," he went on, "I like to be with people like Spencer
and Brixton. For example, while I was waiting here for you, there
came a call from Emery Pitts."
"Emery Pitts?" I echoed. "What does he want?"
"The best way to find out is--to find out," he answered simply.
"It's getting late and I promised to be there directly. I think
we'd better take a taxi."
A few minutes later we were ushered into a large Fifth Avenue
mansion and were listening to a story which interested even
Kennedy.
Pages:
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179