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Updated: May 20, 2025
It all begins about three o'clock, when Piddie comes turkeyin' out of the telephone booth all swelled up with importance and signals me to come on the carpet. "Torchy," says he, "I presume you know where the Metropolitan Building is?" "They ain't moved it since lunchtime, have they?" says I. "That will do!" says he. "Now listen very carefully."
Well, there'd been a big rush on, and they was usin' Piddie more or less frequent, so I was gettin' used to his makin' a noise like a balloon, when one mornin' he come turkeyin' out to the brass gate and says to me: "Torchy, call up 0079 Broad and get the opening on Blitzen." "Sure," says I. "And if it touches seven-eighths don't you want to unload a couple of thousand shares?"
Perhaps there wa'n't doin's on the seventeenth floor that mornin'! Clear out where I sat I could hear the boss callin' for first one man and then another, and Piddie is turkeyin' in and out so excited he don't know whether he's on duty or runnin' bases. Once, when he stops to lean against the spring-water bottle and wipe his dewy brow, I slips up behind and taps him quick on the shoulder.
Knight-errantry for the fair sex! Here, McCabe, is where I shine!" "You do, eh?" says I. "Think you can handle this case all by your lonesome?" Did he? Why, to see him turkeyin' round, glancin' at himself approvin' in the mirror, and pattin' them Grand Duke whiskers of his into shape, you'd think he had some matinée idol as an understudy.
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