“Haven’t bin to Noo York, but I know that !” with a toss of the head.
“Beg pardon. Now, Boston and Albany, Barnes, same instructions from Albany through to Boston. Leave three-five p.m. (you needn’t wire that); arrive nine-five p.m. Wednesday. That covers everything Wade will do, but it pays to shake up the managers.”
“It’s great,” said Miss Kinzey, with a look of admiration. This was the kind of man she understood and appreciated.
“ ’Tisn’t bad,” said Milsom, modestly. “Now, anyone but me would have lost thirty hours and spent a week working out the run, instead of handing him over to the Santa Fe straight through to Chicago.”
“But see here, about that Noo York Limited . Chauncey Depew himself couldn’t hitch his car to her ,” Miss Kinzey suggested, recovering herself.
“Yes, but this isn’t Chauncey. It’s Cheyne—lightning. It goes.”
“Even so. Guess we’d better wire the boy. You’ve forgotten that, anyhow.”
“I’ll ask.”
When he returned with the father’s message bidding Harvey meet them in Boston at an appointed hour, he found Miss Kinzey laughing over the keys. Then Milsom laughed too, for the frantic clicks from Los Angeles ran: We want to know why-why-why? General uneasiness developed and spreading.
Ten minutes later Chicago appealed to Miss Kinzey in these words: If crime of century is maturing please warn friends in time. We are all getting to cover here.