Good-by." "Good-by--I 'll be there." Fairchild grasped the pudgy hand and left the office.

For a moment afterward, old Henry Beamish stood thinking and looking out over the dingy roof adjacent.

Then, somewhat absently, he pressed the ancient electric button for his more ancient stenographer.
"Call a messenger, please," he ordered when she entered, "I want to send a cablegram.".