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Updated: May 20, 2025
"Well," says I, "who does this H. Munson Schott party say he is?" "That's just it," says Vincent. "He doesn't say. But he has a letter of introduction to Mr. Ellins from the Belgian Consul General. Rather an important looking person, too." "H-m-m-m!" says I, runnin' my fingers through my red hair thoughtful.
"But that was early in the game," says I, "when the recruiting officers weren't passing any but young Sandows. I could get by now. Have a heart, Mr. Ellins. Lemme make a try." He chews his cigar a minute, drums thoughtful on the mahogany desk, and then seems to have a bright little idea. "Very well, Torchy," says he, "we'll see what my friend, Major Wellby, can do for you when he comes in."
Ellins would be finishin' the last of three soft-boiled eggs. He'll show up here at nine-forty-five." "Mr. Robert Ellins, then?" demands another. "Say, I'm no puzzle editor," says I. "Maybe he'll be here to-day and maybe he won't." "But we couldn't find him yesterday, either," comes back an old goat with tufts in his ears. "That's a way he has these days," says I.
I want to tell you right here, too, that I am not going to humor that absurd person any more." "Isn't he just as wise as he was when you lured him away from the hotel where I'd put him?" asks Old Hickory sarcastic. "I supposed you had a little sense then yourself, Matthew Ellins," Auntie raps back at him. "You flatter me," says Old Hickory, bowin' stiff and marchin' off huffy.
He'd been shown into the private office on a call for Mr. Robert; but as I was well heeled with work of my own I didn't even glance up from the desk until I hears this scrappy openin' of his. "Bob Ellins, you young scoundrel, what the blighted beatitudes does this mean!" he demands. Naturally that gets me stretchin' my neck, and I turns just in time to watch the gaspy expression on Mr.
"It's this way," says I. "Marjorie's givin' a little week-end house party for 'em out at her place, and well, you know how that's apt to work out at this stage of the game." "You think it may end the agony?" says he. "There'll be a swell chance for twosin'," says I. "Marjorie's plannin' for that." "I see," says Mr. Ellins.
Well, someway that gives Martha an awful jolt; for maybe you remember my tellin' how it turns out that her and Zenobia are second cousins to Old Hickory. She says how she's pained and mortified beyond words to learn that Mr. Ellins should allow his employees to hear him use such language. "Ah, that's all right," says I. "As long as it ain't fired at 'em, nobody feels bad.
"Oh, if it's a case of savin' the next dividend," says I, "I'll take another think. I expect you asked for him at the house?" "He was there at one-fifteen and left twenty minutes later," says Mr. Ellins. "Yes; but what kind of clothes was he wearin'?" says I. "Clothes!" snorts out Old Hickory. "What the blithering " "Lemme ask his man," says I, grabbin' the desk 'phone.
"Any guest who is dissatisfied with the manner in which the Restorium is conducted has the option of leaving." "Well, say!" says Mr. Ellins, thumpin' the desk earnest, "I am dissatisfied! Buttermilk and vesper services! Huh! Do you suppose I've paid two weeks in advance for such a dose? Where's your 'phone?"
Ellins personally," breaks in Mr. Schott, wavin' me off with a yellow-gloved hand. "Of course," says I. "One moment, please. I'll find out if he's in. And if you have any letters, or anything like that " "I prefer to present my credentials in person," says he. "Sorry," says I. "Rules of the office. Saves time, you know. If you don't mind " and I holds out my hand for the letter.
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