But McWhirter's discreet cough reminded me of the street-car
level of our finances, and I made the excuse of putting on more
suitable clothing.
I stood in the street, bareheaded, watching her taxicab as it
rattled down the street. McWhirter touched me on the arm.
"Wake up!" he said. "We have work to do, my friend."
We went upstairs together, cautiously, not to rouse the house.
At the top, Mac turned and patted me on the elbow, my shoulder
being a foot or so above him.
"Good boy!" he said. "And if that shirtfront and tie didn't knock
into eternal oblivion the deck-washing on the Ella, I'll eat them!"
CHAPTER XXIV
THE THING
I deserve no credit for the solution of the Ella's mystery. I have
a certain quality of force, perhaps, and I am not lacking in
physical courage; but I have no finesse of intellect. McWhirter, a
foot shorter than I, round of face, jovial and stocky, has as much
subtlety in his little finger as I have in my six feet and a
fraction of body.
All the way to the river, therefore, he was poring over the drawing.
He named the paper at once.
"Ought to know it," he said, in reply to my surprise. "Sold enough
paper at the drugstore to qualify as a stationery engineer." He
writhed as was his habit over his jokes, and then fell to work at
the drawing again.
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