Part 24 (2/2)

”Why--why, what's the matter now?” he asks.

”Couldn't say,” says I. ”Only you're wanted again. It's the Big Boss this time--Old Hickory Ellins himself. And lemme put you hep to this, Cap'n; if that's a phony tale you're peddlin', don't try it on him.”

”But it's all true--every word of it,” insists Rupert.

”Even so,” says I, ”I wouldn't chance it on with Old Hickory. He's a hard-headed old plute, and that romance dope is likely to make him froth at the mouth. If he starts in givin' you the third degree, or anything like that, you'd better close up like a clam. Here we are, and for the love of Pete draw it mild.”

You see, I hadn't minded pa.s.sin' on a freak to Mr. Robert, for he often gets a laugh out of 'em. But Mr. Ellins is different. The site of his b.u.mp of humor is a dimple at the base of his skull, and if he traces up the fact that I'm the one who turned Rupert and his pirate yarn loose in the general offices my standin' as a discriminating private sec. is goin' to get a sad jolt.

So when Cap'n Killam has been in on the carpet near an hour, with no signs of his either havin' been let out or fired through a window, I begins to get nervous. Once Mr. Robert starts to go into Old Hickory's sanctum; but he finds the door locked, and shortly after that he shuts his roll-top and leaves for the day.

It's near closin' time when Old Hickory opens the door an inch or two, throws a scouty glance around, and beckons me mysterious to come in.

Rupert is still there and still alive. In fact, he's chokin' over one of Mr. Ellins' fat black cigars, but otherwise lookin' fairly satisfied with himself.

”Young man,” says Old Hickory, ”I understand that you have heard some of Captain Killam's story.”

”Eh?” says I, careless like. ”Oh, yes; I believe he did feed a little of that tale to me, but--”

”You will kindly forget to mention it about the office,” he cuts in.

”Yes, sir,” says I. ”That'll be the easiest thing I do. At the time it sounded mighty--”

”Never mind how it sounded to you,” says he. ”Your enthusiasms are easily aroused. Mine kindle somewhat more slowly, but when-- Well, no need to discuss that, either. What I want you to do is to take Captain Killam to some quiet little hotel--the Tillington, for instance--and engage a comfortable room for him; a room and bath, perhaps.”

”Ye-es, sir,” I gasps out.

”In the morning,” he goes on, ”you will call for the Captain about nine o'clock. If he has with him at that time certain odd pieces of antique jewelry, you may report over the 'phone to me and I will tell you what to do next.”

I expect I was gawpin' some, and starin' from one to the other of 'em, for Mr. Ellins scowls and clears his throat menacin'.

”Well?” he growls.

”I was just lettin' it sink in, sir,” says I.

”Humph!” he snorts. ”If it will help the process any, I may say that I am considering the possibility of going on a cruise South with Captain Killam--for my health.”

At which Old Hickory drops his left eyelid and indulges in what pa.s.ses with him for a chuckle.

That's my cue to grin knowin', after which I gets my hat and starts off with Rupert. We'd only got into the corridor when Old Hickory calls me hack, wavin' a twenty.

”Pay for two days in advance,” says he, and then adds in a whisper: ”Keep close track of him. See that he doesn't get away, or talk too much.”

”Yes, sir,” says I. ”Gag and bind, if necessary.”

But there don't seem to be much need of even warnin' Rupert. He hardly opens his mouth on the way up to the hotel, but trails along silent, his eyes fixed starey, like he was thinkin' deep.

”Well,” says I, after a bell-hop had shown us into one of the Tillington's air-shaft rooms and gone for ten cents' worth of ice water, ”it looks like you had the Big Boss almost buffaloed with that pirate tale of yours.”

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