Читать книгу The Green Archer онлайн

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The other pushed back his chair.

"You meet that kind of mentality most anywhere," he said. "I dare say our people seem dull and thick-headed to an American by comparison."

"You bet they don't," said Spike promptly. "The men on the desk are a race apart. They're just naturally incapable of seeing life through the eyes of a reporter. Which means that there is something subnormal about them. Yes, sir. You call 'em city editors in the States and news editors in England. That's the only difference. They're all collaterally minded."

He sighed and put up his feet on the desk. He was young and freckled and had untidy red hair.

"Dog shows are certainly interesting——" he began, when the door opened violently and a shirt-sleeved man glared in through spectacles of enormous size.

"Spike . . . want you. Have you got a job?"

"I'm seeing that man Wood about the children's home—lunching with him."

"He can wait."

He beckoned, and Spike followed him to the tiny room he occupied.

"Do you know Abel Bellamy—a Chicago man . . . millionaire?"