e room, and
approached Bleak.

"I guess you're the guy," he said, and handed the editor a note on
which was scrawled in pencil

TO THE MAN WITH A PENETRATING GAZE WHO HAS JUST SPILLED SOME SHRIMP
SALAD ON HIS PALM BEACH TROUSERS

Bleak, after removing the shrimp, opened the paper. Inside he read

PLEASE BRING TWO DOZEN RYE-TONGUE SANDWICHES AND AS MUCH SHRIMP SALAD
AS THE BASKET WILL HOLD. AM FAMISHED.

QUIMBLETON.

He looked at the restaurateur in surprise.

"The lady said you were to get the grub and put it in this basket,"
said the latter.

"The lady?" inquired Bleak.

"The dame in the car," said Isidor, owner of the Busy Wasp Lunchroom.

Bleak obeyed orders. He filled the basket with tongue sandwiches and a
huge platter of shrimp salad, paid the check, and carried the burden to
the door of the motor.

At the wheel sat a damsel of extraordinary beauty. The massive
proportions of the enormous car only accentuated the perfection of her
streamline figure. Her chassis was admirable; she was upholstered in a
sports suit of fawn-colored whipcord; and her sherry-brown eyes were
unmodified by any dimming devices. Before Bleak could say anything she
cried eagerly, "Get in, Mr. Bleak! I've been looking for you
everywhere. What a happy moment this is!"

Bleak handed in the basket. "Quimbleton--" he began.

"I know," she said. "I'm taking you to him. Poor fellow, he is in great
peril. Get in, please."

By the time Bleak was in the seat beside her, the car was already in
motion.

"You have your passport?" she said, steering through the tangled
traffic.

"Yes," he said. He could not help stealing a sidelong glance at this
bewitching creature. Her dainty and vivacious face, just now a trifle
sunburnt, was fixed resolutely upon the vehicles ahead. On the rim of
the big steering wheel her small gloved hands gave an impression of
great capability. Bleak thought that her profile seemed oddly familiar.

"Haven't I seen you before?" he said.

"Very possibly. Your newspaper printed my picture the other day, with
some rather uncomplimentary remarks."

Bleak was nonplussed.

"Very stupid of me," he said, "but I don't seem to recall--"

"I am Miss Chuff," she said calmly.

The editor's brain staggered.

"Miss Theodolinda Chuff?" he said, in amazement. He recalled some
satirical editorials the Balloon had printed concerning the activities
of the Chuffs, and wondered if he were being kidnaped for court-marti