It was a cozy room, comfortably furnished, clean and neat. A large greyhound lay at his master’s feet, with his nose between his paws.
"Do you always bring that dog with you?" Whittles asked, as he shuffled the cards.
"Only at night," the lawyer replied as he looked down fondly upon the fine brute. "I like to have him along then—for company."
"For fear of what your enemies might do, eh?" and Whittles smiled somewhat knowingly.
"Well, perhaps you’re right. Pedro never has his supper before he comes here, as I am always expecting him to get a good meal before he gets home."
"One of your special enemies, I suppose."
"Not a d—n one, though I expect he’ll have a meal before long."
"Oh, no," and the lawyer chuckled as he threw down a card. "The meal’s in cold storage to-night as far as I know. But, then, one can never tell."
"Cold storage!" and Whittles’ eyes opened wide as he paused in his play.
"Yes, in cold storage. Or, to be more exact, in jail. That’s where the special meal is to-night."
"In jail! Why, man, what do you mean? Who’s in jail?"
"Ho, ho! That’s one on you, Hen, isn’t it? Didn’t know why I invited you here to-night, did you?"
"No; couldn’t guess. Thought it must be something special, though."
"So it is, and I expected to have something special to drink, too. Confound that express company! It’s as slow as cold molasses. I ordered something good for to-night, and it was to have been here before this."
"Going to drink the health of your special friends, are you?" Whittles queried, looking quizzically at the lawyer.
"To one friend only to-night, Hen. He’s our mutual friend—a friend that sticketh closer than a brother, as the Good Book says, and whose tongue is as sharp as a razor, and stings like a hornet. That’s the friend whose health we are going to drink to-night."
"I know of only one person who answers to your description," Whittles replied, "and that’s Abner Andrews, of Ash Point. But he’s no friend of ours."
"You’re mistaken, Hen. He’s my special friend, and yours, too, for that matter."
"Not at all. Didn’t he offer a thousand dollars for that Orphanage?"
"A thousand be hanged! He offered it, but that’s as far as it goes. He’ll never pay a cent."
"Won’t he? Well, we’ll see about that. Anyway, he’s got two kids at his home now. I sent them there last night so that he could start the Orphanage at once at Ash Point."