For a long time there was no other noise save the rattle of dishes and the busy clatter of knives, forks, and spoons. Then Thornley beckoned to Dutchy.
"Vell, vat iss it?" inquired the proprietor from behind the counter.
"Who put you on to this?" demanded Thornley. "I've had to stand for it, and I'd like to know. I would that!"
MacDonald, sitting beside Thornley, noticed, with some misgivings, a peculiar expression sweep over Dutchy's face, but to his relief the proprietor's only reply was a grunt, as he answered a call for more coffee.
"By the hokey, I'll bet it was that red-haired Taggart!" exclaimed Thornley suddenly, turning to the dispatcher.
MacDonald buried his face in his cup, ostensibly to drain the last drop, then he set it down quickly and jerked his watch from his pocket.
"Holy Moses!" he ejaculated, and fled from the room.
An hour later, as Thornley was again sitting with his feet on MacDonald's desk, Dutchy stuck his head into the room and beckoned to the dispatcher. MacDonald walked across the floor and joined him. Dutchy pulled him out of the room and closed the door.
"Dere iss one thing dot I forgotted did," announced Mr. Damrosch.
"What's that?" inquired MacDonald.
"Dere iss five doughnuts dot iss paid for not."
