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Updated: June 24, 2025
"Dodey's an awful clever girl, and she wouldn't be in this biz eight hours if that gold mine " "Sure, I know!" I interrupted; "possibly Mademoiselle is thirsty a little wine, eh?" "You betcher sweet!" the stout person replied, with a celerity that made Bunch sit up and look about the room to see if anyone suspected him. "Dodey is always for the suds thing," Skinski chipped in.
Skinski replied in pure United States, much to Bunch's surprise. From the name and the make-up I suppose Bunch expected Skinski to yelp in Bulgarian or throw out signals in Graeco-Roman. Skinski was a warm member with the gab thing. He got his start in life travelling with a medicine wagon in the West, and what he didn't know about the show business wasn't necessary.
With kindest regards, BUNCH. P. S. Don't drag Aunt Flora into any literary discussions she might hand you something. Her favorite author is Pommery Sec., the chap who writes all those frothy books. "I wish you could have seen our place in the day-time," Peaches was saying to Skinski when I finished reading Bunch's get-back. "We think it's delightful out here.
I only wanted to prepare you for certain big happenings in case there are real doings with that gold mine out in the Blue Hills." "Sush!" I laughed; "then it's only the hasheesh. But, Skinski, on the level, I do wish you'd quit smoking those No. 4's; they'll ruin your imagination." "Wait and see," smirked Skinski.
When we get all the money we need, we'll sell our interest and bow out. It's a pipe, Bunch. I tell you, this Skinski has them all faded to a whisper. He has a bunch of new illusions that will simply make the jay audiences sit up and throw money at us. And as for sleight-of-hand and card tricks, well, say!
"The syndicate has bought my gold mine in the Blue Hills," he answered calmly. "And you're going to throw us after making a start like this?" Bunch almost sobbed. "Throw nothing!" Skinski came back. "Didn't I tell you once before that I am for you two guys all the old while didn't I, Dodey?" "You betcher sweet!" she answered solemnly. "Well, that still goes," Skinski went on.
I interrupted. "I saw you work, Skinski, and you're a wonder; that's good enough for my money." "Yes, but you never once put a sleuth over the back trail to throw the spot light on my past life," Skinski babbled on. "You're the first white man that ever took a chance with me without lashing me to the medicine ball, and I'll make good for you, all right, won't I, Dodey?"
And so it came about that we destroyed the contract, pocketed our seven thousand each, and bade Skinski and Dodo an affecting farewell. Bunch and I couldn't talk for hours afterwards. We were afraid we'd wake ourselves up.
Seven forty-five and no Skinski. I was afraid to tell Bunch what I was thinking, and Bunch was afraid to think for fear he'd spill something. Eight o'clock came and still no Skinski. It was pitiful. I began to see visions of an insulted audience reaching for my collar over the prostrate form of my partner in crime. An usher came back at 8:10 and told us the house was full.
"Say, people!" our star went on, "I've a couple of new card tricks up my sleeve that will leave the Reubens gasping for air. And when I pull my new illusion, entitled, 'Keno, or the Curious Cage, on the public it will be a case of counting easy coin. Say! did I ever tell you about that gold mine I won in the West many moons ago?" "Nix on the dream work, Skinski," I cut in.
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