ugh, I don't bear no grudge.

It was the Doc I met first. I'd noticed him driftin' up and down the
stairs once or twice, but didn't pipe him off special. There's too many
freaks around 42nd-st. 'to keep cases on all of 'em.

But one day about a month ago I was sittin' in the front office here,
gettin' the ear-ache from hearing Swifty Joe tell about what he meant to
do to Gans that last time, when the door swings open so hard it most
takes the hinges off, and we sees a streak of arms and legs and tall hat
makin' a dive under the bed couch in the corner.

"They've most got the range, Swifty," says I. "Two feet to the left and
you'd been a bull's-eye. What you got your mouth open so wide for? Goin'
to try to catch the next one in your teeth?"

Swifty didn't have time to uncork any repartee before someone struck
the landing outside like they'd come down a flight of foldin' steps feet
first, and a little, sharp-nosed woman, with purple flowers in her hat,
bobs in and squints once at each of us. Say, I don't want to be looked
at often like that! It felt like bein' sampled with a cheese tester.

"Did Montgomery Smith just come in here?" says she. "Did he? Don't lie,
now! Where is he?" and the way she jerked them little black eyes around
was enough to tear holes in the matting.

"Lady--" says I.

"Don't lady me, Mr. Fresh," says she, throwin' the gimlets my way. "And
tell that broken-nosed child stealer over there to take that monkey grin
off'm his face or I'll scratch his eyes out."

"Hully chee!" yells Swifty, throwin' a back somersault through the gym.
door and snappin' the lock on his side.

"Anything more, miss?" says I. "We're here to please."

"Humph!" says she. "It'd take somethin' better than you to please me."

"Glad I was born lucky," thinks I, but I thought it under my breath.

"Is my Monty hiding in that room?" says she, jabbin' a finger at the
gym.

"Cross my heart, he ain't," says I.

"I don't believe you could think quick enough to lie," says she, and
with that she flips out about as fast as she came in.

I didn't stir until I hears her hit the lower hall. Then I bolts the
door, goes and calls Swifty down off the top of the swingin' rope, and
we comes to a parade rest alongside the couch.

"Monty, dear Monty," says I, "the cyclone's passed out to sea. Come out
and give up your rain check."

He backs out feet first, climbs up on the couch, and drops his chin into
his hands for a minute, while