e of your skimpy, loose-jointed
parties, with a turkey neck that had a lump in front and wa'n't on good
terms with the back of his coat collar. Two of his front teeth was set
on a bias, givin' him one of these squirrel mouths that keeps you
thinkin' he's just goin' to bite into an apple.

I watched him a minute or so without sayin' anything, while he was
pawin' around for the gate sort of absent minded, and when I thinks it's
about time to wake him up I sings out:

"Say, Profess, you're on the right side of the fence now; let it go at
that."

"Ah--er--I beg pardon," says he.

"Well," says I, "that's a good start."

"I--er--I beg----" says he.

"You've covered that ground," says I. "Take a new lead."

That seems to rattle him more'n ever. He hangs his umbrella over one
arm, peels off a brown woolen mitt, and fishes a card out of his inside
pocket. "This is the--ah--Corrugated Trust Building, is it not?" says
he.

"It is, yes," says I; "but the place where you cash in your scalper's
book ticket is down on the third floor."

"Oh!" says he. "Thank you very much," and he starts to trot out. He has
his hand on the knob, when a new thought comes to him. He tiptoes back
to the gate, pries off one of the ear muffs, and leans over real
confidential. "I didn't quite understand," says he. "Did you say Cousin
Robert's was the third door?"

"Chee!" says I. "Willie, take off the other one, so you can get a good
healthy circulation through the belfry."

The words seemed to daze him some; but he tumbled to my motions and
unstoppered his south ear.

"Now," says I, "what's this about your Cousin Bob? Where'd you lose
him?"

Watcher think, though? I gets it out of him that he's come all the way
from Bubble Creek, Michigan, and is lookin' for Mr. Robert Ellins. With
that I lets him through, plants him in a chair, and goes in to the boss.

"Say," says I to Mr. Robert, "there's a guy, outside that's just floated
in from the breakfast food belt and is callin' for Cousin Robert. Here's
his card."

"Why, that must be Clifford!" says he.

"Then it's true, is it, the cousin business?" says I.

"Certainly it is, Torchy," says he. "Why not?"

"Oh, nothin'," says I. "I wouldn't have thought it, though."

"It isn't at all necessary," says Mr. Robert. "Bring him in at once."

"I guess I can spare him," says I. Then I goes back and taps Cousin
Clifford on the shoulder. "Cliffy," says I, "you're subpoened. Push
through two door