they're gonna have him get a
snake painted on the third finger of his right hand and shoo him up to
the stout dame the next day. After he has been welcome homed, Marc
Anthony is gonna say that he's makin' out a check for the professor
which throwed them together, and don't she think she ought to send in
somethin' also? When she asks what he thinks would be about right,
Marc Anthony is gonna say that he guesses she ought to keep the pen she
wrote the check with as a souvenir, but that everything else she had,
includin' anything a pawnbroker would give a ticket on, would do!

I didn't say nothin' to that, but I was doin' a piece of thinkin' and
as soon as we got our feet on Fifth Avenue again, I let go. I told the
Kid what I thought of his friend Honest Dan in language that Billy
Sunday could have been proud of. When I got through with Dan, I took
up the professor and give him a play. I said it was my belief that a
couple of safety-first crooks, who would deliberate trim a simple old
stout dame out of her dough in that coarse manner, should be taken up
to the Metropolitan tower and eased off.

The Kid just grins and starts hummin' under his breath.

By this time I had worked myself up to such a pitch that my goat was
chasin' madly about the streets, and to have the Kid act that way was
about all I needed. I carefully explained to him just how many kinds
of a big, yellah tramp he was, to let the professor crab him with Miss
Vincent and get away with it clean. I showed him where he should have
at least bent a chair over that guy's head, if he was a real gentleman
whose honor had been trifled with and not a four flushin' false alarm.

"Gobs of generous Gazoopis!" he snickers at me when I get through.
"Our employees is all new, noisy and Norwegians!"

They was a queer look in his eye, and I figured he must have slipped
out in the mornin' at that and dug up a place where prohibition hadn't
carried. I stopped right in the middle of the traffic and told him I
was goin' up to the Fritz-Charlton the next mornin' and tip the stout
dame off, if it was the last thing I did.

He just grins!

The next mornin' I beat it up to Cleopatra's hotel, and, after I have
waited an hour, she sends a maid down to see me. The maid tells me to
spread my hands out flat on a little table that's standin' there and
she examines every finger like a sure enough mechanic looks over a
second-hand automobile he's gonna buy to hack with. Fin