ally, she
throws my hands down with a disappointed look and her shoulders begins
one of them hula dances.

"_Viola_!" she remarks. "That leetle snake, he is not there! Madame
she is not at home--away wit' you!"

Well, I figures I did what _I_ could, so I breezed out and left
Cleopatra flat.

Failin' to locate the Kid anywheres, I went on down to the studio and
walk right in on the professor and Honest Dan givin' Marc Anthony a
dress rehearsal. He was a handsome guy, all right, sickenin'ly so,
with one of them soft, mushy faces and wavin' blonde hair. He's had
the snake tattooed on his finger, like the part called for, and the way
he carries on about how he's gonna give the stout dame the work makes
me foam at the mouth. My once favorably known left had all it could do
to keep from bouncin' off his chin! Finally, they start him away and
Honest Dan tells me how they got it framed up for him to meet
Cleopatra. He was to go to the Fritz-Charlton and send up a card that
claimed he was the editor of "Society Seethings," and when she comes
down to see him, he was to ask her what was her plans for the winter
season and a lot of bunk like that. In no way was he to make a crack
about bein' Marc Anthony--that would be too raw, but as he was leavin'
he was to carelessly let her see that snake on his finger. That was
all!

They knowed Cleopatra would do the rest.

I couldn't stand no more, so I hustled back to our hotel, and the
minute I get in, the clerk tells me the Kid has been chasin' around
lookin' for me all morning so I beat it right up to our suite. The Kid
is doin' his road work by canterin' around the room when I come in, and
he rushes over and grabs me by the arm.

"When are them yeggmen gonna send Marc Anthony up to Cleopatra?" he
demands, all excited.

"He just left a few minutes ago!" I tells him. "Why?"

The Kid gives a yell and jumps over to the door leadin' to our
sittin'-room, yankin' it open with one jerk. I thought I'd pass away
when I got a flash at what was inside. They was about twenty of the
roughest lookin' guys I ever seen in my life, all dolled up in new
suits, shoes and hats. Some of them I recognized as ex-heavy-weights,
they was a few strikin' longshoremen, a fair sprinklin' of East Side
gunmen and here and there what had passed for a actor in the tanks.

"Some layout, eh?" pipes the Kid, rubbin' his hands together. "It took
me all mornin' and nearly three hundred bucks to rib