The greasy individual returned to his table, dragged the chair nearer it, then, seating himself, leaned toward Fairchild.
"If I 'm not mistaken, you 're the owner of the Blue Poppy mine." "I 'm supposed to be." "Of course--of course.

One never knows in these days what he owns or when he owns it.

Very good, I 'd say, Mr.Fairchild, very good.

Could you possibly do me the favor of telling me how you 're getting along ?" Fairchild's eyes narrowed.
"I thought you had information--for me!" "Very good again." Mr.Barnham raised a fat hand and wheezed in an effort at intense enjoyment of the reply.

"So I have--so I have.