te thoughtless of
you. Hah!"

And say; next time I think I have a joke for Old Hickory I'll go down
to Thirty-third Street and try it first on the statue of Horace
Greeley. If he rocks back and forth in his bronze chair and lifts the
roof off the L station above, I'll know it may do to pass on to Mr.
Ellins. Yep! That's just the way I feel about it.

"I expect I'm released on this case, then?" says I, after waitin' while
Old Hickory chews his cigar savage for a couple of minutes.

"No," he snaps out. "You've succeeded in losing Captain Killam; now
you'll help find him again. I'll go with you this time. Come."

Seemed too simple for words at first, me and Mr. Ellins startin' out to
hunt New York for a batty stranger in a blue flannel shirt. By
degrees, though, I got the idea. It's the competition that has stirred
him up. Likely enough, he'd have turned Rupert and his scheme down
cold if it hadn't been for that. But when Auntie crashes in, the case
is entirely different; then he's strong for it. Settin' that time-lock
jaw of his and lightin' a fresh perfecto, Old Hickory grabs his hat;
and off we go, with me trailin' along reluctant. His first move is to
hail a taxi.

"Just goin' to cruise around town casual in the hopes of spottin' him
on the fly, eh?" I asks.

"Hardly," says Mr. Ellins. "I'm not going to stand in the middle of
Broadway and whistle for him either, or throw out a hook and line and
troll. I think we will go first to Mrs. Hemmingway's, if you will
kindly give the driver the number."

He can be more brutally polite than anyone I ever saw. I wasn't
enjoyin' that ride so much, and it's a relief when we pulls up at the
curb. I offers to run in and see if Auntie is back yet, but he won't
have it.

"Just lead the way, that's all," says he.

"Oh, very well," says I.

And when Helma, the maid, has used up all her hyphenated English in
assurin' us that "Meesus" is still out, I rubs it in by shruggin' my
shoulders and glancin' knowin' at him.

"Mees Verona, she coom," suggests Helma.

"Good!" says I. "I'd like a word with her, anyway."

Having just finished her canter in the park, Vee is still in her riding
togs; and, take it from me, that's some snappy costume of hers. Maybe
she ain't easy to look at, too, as she floats in with the pink in her
cheeks and her eyes sparklin'. Wish I could fit into a frock-coat like
that, or wear such shiny little boots. Even Old Hickory cheers up