Time Traveller

"Pardon me," you say, adopting the accent once again, "Sorry to disturb. But I'm sure I've seen you around somewhere before."

It's a good opening; innocent, and plays on a man's pride. Sure enough, the fattest of the two men puffs himself up even more.

"I'm sure you have, son! You're speaking to William Garfield, or Willie Cheroot to mah friends. I'm the owner of the railway that's winding its little old way across America. Maybe you was at one of mah openin' ceremonies?"

"Ah yes, that must be it," you lie, "A pleasure, Mr. Garfield."

"Pleasure's all mine, I'm sure. Somethin' I can do for you? You sure are in some shiny new duds there."

"Why, yes, sir, if you an' your friend aren't too busy, I'm a reporter for the... Times. Dodge City. I'm interviewing influential businessmen for our front page special."

"Well, why I think we can spare you some time, don't you, John?" he says to his partner, who grins and nods. "Come and sit down, son. I'll pour you a whiskey."

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