something
new. That's why I came."

"Eh?" says I.

"I'm volunteering--under you," says he. "I'll be anything you say; top
sergeant, corporal, or just plain private. Anything so I can help. See!
I am yours to command, Lieutenant Torchy," and he does a Boy Scout
salute.

"Sorry," says I, "but I don't see how I could use you just now. The fact
is, I can't even say what I'm working on."

"Oh, perfectly bully!" says Barry. "You needn't tell me a word, or drop
a hint. Just give me my orders, lieutenant, and let me carry on."

Well, instead of shooin' him off I'd only got him stickin' tighter'n a
wad of gum to a typewriter's wrist watch, and after trying to do some
more heavy thinkin' with him watchin' admirin' from where I'd planted
him in a corner, I gives it up.

"All right," says I. "Think you could stand another manicure today?"

Barry glances at his polished nails doubtful but allows he could if it's
in the line of duty.

"It is," says I. "I'm goin' to sacrifice some of my red hair on the
altar of human freedom. Come along."

So, all unsuspectin' where he was goin', I leads him down into Otto's
barber shop. And I must say, as a raid in force, it was more or less of
a fizzle. The scissors artist who revises my pink-plus locks is a
gray-haired old gink who'd never been nearer Berlin than First Avenue.
Two of the other barbers looked like Greeks, and even Otto had clipped
the ends of his Prussian lip whisker. Nobody in the place made a noise
like a spy, and the only satisfaction I got was in lettin' Barry pay the
checks.

"I got to go somewhere and think," says I.

"How about a nice quiet dinner at the club?" says Barry.

"That don't listen so bad," says I.

And it wasn't, either. Barry insists on spreadin' himself with the
orderin', and don't even complain about havin' to chase out to the bar
to take his drinks, on account of my being in uniform.

"Makes me feel as if I were doing my bit, you know," says he.

"Talk about noble sacrifices!" says I. "Why, you'll be qualifyin' for a
D. S. O. if you keep on, Barry."

And along about the _baba au rhum_ period I did get my fingers on the
tall feathers of an idea. Nothing much, but so long as Barry was anxious
to be used, I thought I saw a way.

"Suppose anybody around the club could dig up a screwdriver for you?" I
asks.

Inside of two minutes Barry had everybody in sight on the jump, from the
bus boy to the steward, and in with the demi tasse came the s