Part 29 (1/2)

Well, say, I don't do a thing but hustle into my clothes and chase down the corridor to Mr. Ellins' room. Is he int'rested in the tale? He's all of that.

”Torchy,” says he, ”if you can lead me down to that game, I--I'll forgive you. Perhaps I'll do better than that.”

I used up half a box of matches findin' the way; but at last we located the light comin' through the transom.

”Good work!” he whispers. ”Now you go back to bed and enjoy a long night's rest.”

Sure I did--not. I wouldn't have missed hearin' that exchange of happy greetin's for a farm. And the way the Doc chokes up and splutters tryin'

to explain things was somethin' lovely. He was gettin' himself as twisted as a pretzel, when Old Hickory breaks in.

”That's all right, Doc,” says he. ”Innocent little relaxation. I understand perfectly. Now, what's the ante?”

Well, after that the conversation wasn't so excitin'; nothing but, ”I'll take three cards,” or ”Raise you two more blues.” So I sneaks back and falls into the hay once more.

At breakfast Mr. Ellins shows up more smilin' and chipper than I'd ever seen him anywhere before. He puts away three soft boiled eggs, a couple of lamb chops, and two cups of coffee made special for him. The Doc he follows us out to the limousine.

”Sorry to have you go so soon, Mr. Ellins,” says he, rubbin' one hand over the other, ”very sorry indeed, sir. And--er--about those memoranda from my a.s.sistants. I will see that they are redeemed, you know.”

”Those I O U's?” says Mr. Ellins. ”Oh, you tell the boys I tore 'em up.

Yours, too, Doctor. I had my fun out of the game. So long.”

And for the next four miles Old Hickory don't do much but gaze out on the landscape and chuckle.

”Was that a bluff about buildin' that hotel?” says I after awhile.

”Well,” says Mr. Ellins, ”not exactly; but I think I shall present the Restorium with a pipe organ instead.”

CHAPTER XIV

IN ON THE OOLONG

Course it was a cinch; but Piddie ain't got done wonderin' yet how I did it. I can tell that by the puzzled way he has of lookin' me over when he thinks I ain't noticin'.

You see, we'd been havin' a quiet week at the Corrugated. This fine spell of weather has braced Old Hickory up until he almost forgets how he's cast himself for the great grouch collector. Things must have been runnin' smooth, too; for he can even read about the Return from Elba plans without chuckin' the mornin' paper into the waste basket and gettin' purple behind the ears.

Then, all of a sudden here the other afternoon, Piddie comes trottin'

out of the private office all fl.u.s.tered up and begins pawin' excited through the big bond safe. He's hardly got started at that before there comes three rings on the buzzer for him, and he trots back to see what the old man wants now. Next there are hurry calls for the general auditor and the head of the contract department, and before Mr. Ellins gets through he's had every chief in the shop up on the carpet and put 'em through the third degree. Way out by my gate I could hear him layin'

down the law to 'em, and they comes out lookin' wild and worried.

Which don't get me excited any at all. I worked in the newspaper office too long and saw too many Sunday editions go to press for that. So when I hears him yell for me I don't jump over the desk and get goose flesh up the back. I keeps right on snappin' rubber bands at the spring water bottle until he's shouted a couple more times. Then I winks at the row of lady typists and strolls in, calm and easy.

”Yes, sir?” says I.

”See here, boy!” says he. ”Do you happen by any chance to know where that son of mine might be found at this moment?”

”Mr. Robert?” says I. ”Nix.”

”No, of course you don't!” says Old Hickory, glarin' at me. ”No one around this precious asylum for undeveloped cerebellums seems to know anything they ought to. Bah!”