you know, that you were as smart as paint—too smart to be trundling boxes around on a bally goods wagon. Who told you to come up here?”
“No one, Mr. Kemp, I just wanted to work under Mr. Marconi so that I could say I had done so and I came up from New York of my own accord.”
“Well, bless my old soul!” Mr. Kemp continued, which was his way of expressing his opinion of the nerve I had shown.
I kept right on packing up the stuff under the direction of the two assistants and after a while when Mr. Marconi came over Mr. Kemp spoke to him.
“I say, Mr. Marconi, this chap is Jack Heaton who was the operator on the Andalusian when she went down. He says he came up here to work with you. I don’t know who took him on; I didn’t and Mr. Paget says he didn’t.”
“Mr. Marconi, I’m mighty glad to meet you,” I said and held out my hand.
He grasped it firmly and shook it just once and that was worth another million dollars. What’s that? Well, it was worth a hundred anyhow.
