“Well,” he said, “Randolph Mason came near to losing his clerk. I guess I stumbled on that infernal rail.”
A great light came into the face of Jerry Van Meter. He came up close to the little man and caught him by the shoulder. “Randolph Mason!” he said, “Is Randolph Mason in New York?”
“Yes,” responded the little man. “I am his clerk. Parks is my name. Mr. Mason is here, but” Then he stopped short.
The now excited Van Meter shook the little man almost roughly by the shoulder.
“Good,” he cried, “good, we must see him at once.”
The clerk Parks looked down at his soiled clothes and the dust on his bruised hands.
“Gentlemen,” he said slowly, “it is against the strict order of the physicians, but, under the circumstances, I don't quite see how I am going to refuse.”
