Mitchell spread out the yellow slip and read it aloud.  “H’m!  ’Ponce de Leon St Augustine Florida John E Bickford The Carlton New York—­Come at once Father worse Doctor orders to Egypt Jennie.’  Why sure, my boy.  Here’s what cash I got, and I’ll give you a check.  Too bad, too bad!  By George, I hope your dad pulls through.  What!  Blame it, I mean dammit, I’ve come off without my checkbook.  Got yours, Archie?”

Archie patted his pockets.  “No, I haven’t.  Left it in the office.  Got a couple of hundred cash you’re welcome to, though.”

The young man looked nervously at his watch.  Mitchell turned hesitatingly toward Thompson.  But the Westerner did not wait for an appeal to his generosity.  He volunteered, eager to oblige a man of such large affairs as his substantial friend.

“I’ll write you a check.  You can just run in to the nearest bank with me and indorse it, Mr. Mitchell.  Sorry I haven’t the cash with me.”  Thus Steve, his clumsy innocence eluding the toils with all the grace of an agile hippopotamus.

The grafters glanced at each other.  But Mitchell was equal to the emergency.

“No need to bother you, Mr. Thompson, thanks, all the same,” he said suavely.  “Archibald, just give me what you’ve got and I’ll run over to Jersey City with John.  Traffic Manager of the Pennsylvania is a friend of mine.  If he’s in his office I’ll get it of him.  Otherwise, I’ll start John on, and wire balance to him at St. Augustine when I get back.  Wait a minute, John.  Got plenty of time to catch the boat.  Look here, Archie—­you’re not busy, are you?”

“I’m always busy,” said the shipowner gayly, “but no more so to-day than any other day.  Why?”

“Oh, well, you can get off.  I promised Thompson, here, to do him the honors, and now I’ve got to help John out.  Oh, you two are not acquainted, are you?  Ex_cuse_ me!  Mr. Archibald, Mr. Bickford—­Mr. Thompson, Mr. Bickford.  Mr. Bickford’s father was a dear old friend of mine.  Once very wealthy, too, but has had reverses.  Bless me, how I do ramble on!  Old age, sir, old age!  Osler was half right.  Now, Archie, ’phone up to your office that you’re unavoidably detained and all the rest of it, like a good fellow, and take my place as cicerone.  Never mind your dinky little boats—­take him up and show him the big fellows—­the ocean greyhounds.”

“But,” objected Archibald, “I’ve got to go down to the office to get some money.  You’ve broke me, you shanghaier.”

“So I have, so I have!” He peeled off a hundred-dollar-bill, ignoring Steve’s protest.  “That enough?  I’ll fix John up, some way.  You’re at Mr. Thompson’s orders.  Mind, his money isn’t any good.  I pay for both of you.  Wish it was more, but you see how I’m hooked up.  You’ll have a better time with a young fellow like Archie than you would with an old fogy like me, anyhow.  Here, we’ll be left!” He made for the ferry slips with the anxious Bickford.