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Ellins would let it go that far, do you?" asks Vee. "It would be just like Auntie to fire back," says I. "What's a navy more or less to her, when she gets her jaw set?" "I I wish I hadn't come on this old yacht," says Vee. "If I could row you ashore," says I, "I wouldn't mind stayin' to keep you company. Look! That smoke off there's gettin' nearer."
Ellins here ain't so much worried over what's going to happen to the show as he is over what has happened to Penrhyn Deems. Now how did he disappear? Who saw him last?" Whitey shrugs his shoulders. "All a mystery, I tell you," says he. "We haven't a single clue." "And you're just sitting back wondering what has become of him," demands Mr. Robert, "without making an effort to trace him?"
Anyway, Auntie must have seen us doin' the wild scramble, and got suspicious; for, just as they got alongside, she pounds on the front window, shouts something at the driver, and instead of stoppin' the other taxi veers off and goes smokin' uptown. "Hey!" yells Mr. Ellins to our driver. "Catch that yellow car! Ten dollars if you catch it."
And yet, come to look him over close, he's just a wide-beamed old party with bags under his eyes and heavy common-place features. "You grasp the idea now, don't you?" he asks. "I think so," says I. "Ghost stuff, eh?" "I'm merely suggesting that as the only explanation which occurs to me," says he. "I would like to have it put before Ellins and get his opinion.
But this time it seems someone tip at the Ellins home had forgot to transfer part of the private cellar stock down to the hotel and when Old Hickory calls up here we has to chase Vincent out there and have him load two heavy suitcases into a taxi and see that the same are delivered without being touched by any bellhops or porters.
"That's why I'm glad you are going to tow us around," he goes on, "instead of Bob Ellins. He's a back number, Bob. Me, too, from having been out of it all so long. Why, I've only been scouting about a little, but I can't find any of the old joints." "Yes, a lot of 'em have been put out of business," says I. "Must be new ones just as good though," he insists.
Also I'm strong for you and Mr. Ellins. I expect you know that, Mr. Robert. Maybe I ain't got it in me to be anything but an office boy, either; but when it comes to goin' on exhibition before certain parties as the double cipher on the east side of the decimal well, that's where I make my foolish play." "Ah!" says he, rubbin' his chin thoughtful. "Now I fully understand.
Why, you're the one who's going to handle that ore transportation deal for the Corrugated, ain't you?" "I was, but I'm not," says the chatterbox. "Eh?" says I, gawpin'. "Can't take it on," says he. "Tell Ellins, will you?" "Not much!" says I. "Guess you'll have to hand that to him yourself, Mr. Wells. He'll be here any minute. Right this way."
Three minutes more and the major announces that the trucks are on the way. "Which means, Ellins," he adds, "that you win your twenty-five. Here you are." "If you don't mind," says Old Hickory, "I'll keep this and pass on my hundred to Torchy here. He might like to entertain his volunteer squad with it."
"Not if he's a tame one," says I. "But how can you tell he ain't wild? And there comes a whirry-buzzin' noise." "Yes," says she. "A motor coming down the macadam. There, it's turned into our road! Perhaps someone coming to see us, Goosie." Sure enough, it was. A minute later Mr. and Mrs. Robert Ellins were givin' us the hail out front.
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