Pennington sprang furiously to his feet. "Dammit." he snarled, "why
did you do that without consulting me?"

"Didn't know you were remotely interested." Now that the ice was
broken, Poundstone felt relieved and was prepared to defend his act
vigorously. "And we did not commit ourselves irrevocably," he
continued. "The temporary franchise will expire in twenty-eight days
--and in that short time the N.C.O. cannot even get started."

"Have you any understanding as to an extension of that temporary
franchise, in case the N.C.O. desires it?"

"Well, yes--not in writing, however. I gave Ogilvy to understand that
if he was not ready in thirty days, an extension could readily be
arranged."

"Any witnesses?"

"I am not such a fool, sir," Poundstone declared with asperity. "I
had a notion--I might as well admit it--that you would have serious
objection to having your tracks cut by a jump-crossing at B and Water
streets." And for no reason in life except to justify himself and
inculcate in Pennington an impression that the latter was dealing
with a crafty and far-seeing mayor, Poundstone smiled boldly and
knowingly. "I repeat," he said, "that I did not put it in writing."
He leaned back nonchalantly and blew smoke at the ceiling.

"You oily rascal!" Pennington soliloquized. "You're a smarter man
than I thought. You're trying to play both ends against the middle."