I suppose she had ears, a neck and
hands, but you couldn't tell right away whether she had or not, because
them parts of her anatomy, as the feller says, was buried under a
carload of diamonds. You could see by her face that at one time she
had probably been a swell-lookin' dame, but them days was all over.
Still, she was makin' a game try at comin' back, and from her
complexion she must have been kept busy day and night openin' bottles
and cans signed on the outside by Lillian Russell and etc.

This dame was havin' the best time of anybody in the joint. She was
sittin' up very straight and solemn with both chins restin' in her
glitterin' hands and from the look in her eyes some Sunday paper had
just claimed she was the best lookin' woman in America and the like.

A guy wouldn't have to be no Sherlock Holmes to see that this was the
bird that was bein' readied for the big killin' by Honest Dan and his
trick professor. The rest of them was just what you might call the
chorus.

Sittin' right beside the stout party was a kid that had just dropped in
from the cover of a magazine. She was the kind of female that could
come down to breakfast with the mumps and her hair in curl papers, fry
the egg on the wrong side and yet make the lucky guy across the table
go out whistlin' and pityin' his unwed friends. You know how them
dames look when they have give some time to _dollin' up_, don't you?
Well, this one had everything; take it from me, she was a knockout!
She's tappin' the floor with a classy little foot and tryin' to see can
she pull a silk handkerchief apart with her bare hands, the while
registerin' this,
"This-medium-thing-is-the-bunk-and-I-wish-I-was-out-of-here!"

I doped her as the stout dame's daughter, hittin' .1000 on the guess as
I found out later.

"Well," whispers Honest Dan to the Kid, "what d'ye think of the place?"

"Some joint!" says the Kid. "Listen--I got a new one. The most
magnificently, male mauler on earth! How's that--poor, eh?"

"What does it mean?" asks Honest Dan.

"It means _me_, Stupid!" pipes the Kid. "I'm havin' some cards made up
with that on it. The sagacious, sanguine and scandalous Scanlan,
welterweight walloper of the world! Where's the professor?"

"Sssh!" whispers Honest Dan. "Lay off that _professor_ gag here.
That's small town stuff--he's a mahatma now! He's in one of his
silences, but if you keep quiet I'll take you around and show you how
he works."

He ta