Everybody likes Del; even Mrs. Del. But his pace is too swift for
me. Just at present he is furnishing transportation, sixty horse-power,
for Tarantina, the dancer who is featured in Betty Raleigh's show."
"Is she over there with them?"
"Oh, no. She wouldn't be. It isn't as sporty as all that." He rose to
shake hands with a short, angular young man, dressed to a perfection as
accurate as Banneker's own, and excelling him in one distinctive touch,
a coat-flower of gold-and-white such as no other in New York could wear,
since only in one conservatory was that special orchid successfully
grown. By it Banneker recognized Poultney Masters, Jr., the son and heir
of the tyrannous old financier who had for years bullied and browbeaten
New York to his wayward old heart's content. In his son there was
nothing of the bully, but through the amiability of manner Banneker
could feel a quiet force. Cressey introduced them.
"We're just having coffee," said Banneker. "Will you join us?"
"Thank you; I must go back to my party. I came over to express my
personal obligation to you for cleaning out that gang of wharf-rats. My
boat anchors off there. I hope to see you aboard her sometime."
"You owe me no thanks," returned Banneker good-humoredly.
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