n then, the braid-bound cutaway and the biscuit-colored spats had me
buffaloed. So I slows up until I can get a front view of the party who's
almost tripped himself with the horn-handled walkin'-stick and is havin'
a few last words with someone in the cab. Then I sees the washed out
blue eyes, and I know there can't be any mistake. About then, too, he
turns and recognizes me.

"Well, for the love of beans!" says I. "Rupert!"

The funny part of it is that I gets it off as cordial as if I was
discoverin' an old trench mate. You know how you will. And, while I
can't say Captain Killam registered any wild joy in his greetin', still
he seemed pleased enough. He gives me a real hearty shake.

"And here is someone else you know," says he, wavin' to the cab: "Mrs.
Mumford."

Blamed if it ain't the cooin' widow. She's right there with the old
familiar purry gush, too, squeezin' my fingers kittenish and askin' me
how "dear, sweet Verona" is. I was just noticin' that she'd ditched the
half mournin' for some real zippy raiment when she leans back so as to
exhibit a third party in the taxi--a young gent with one of these
dead-white faces and a cute little black mustache--reg'lar lounge-lizard
type.

"Oh, and you must meet my dear friend, Mr. Vinton Bartley," she purrs.
"Vinton, this is the Torchy I've spoken about so often."

"Ah, ya-a-as," drawls Vinton, blowin' out a whiff of scented cigarette
smoke lazy. "Quite so. But--er--hadn't we best be getting on, Lorina?"

"Yes, yes," coos Mrs. Mumford. "By-by, Captain. Good-by, Torchy."

And off they whirls, leavin' me with my mouth open and Rupert starin'
after 'em gloomy.

"Lorina, eh?" says I. "How touchin'!"

Killam only grunts, but it struck me he has tinted up a bit under the
eyes.

"Say, Rupert," I goes on, "who's your languid friend with the
cream-of-cabbage complexion?"

"Bartley?" says he. "Oh, he's a friend of Mrs. Mumford; a drama-tist--so
he says."

Now, I might have let it ride at that and gone along about my own
affairs, which ain't so pressin' just then. Yes, I might. But I don't.
Maybe it was hornin' in where there was no welcome sign on the mat, and
then again perhaps it was only a natural folksy feelin' for an old
friend I hadn't seen for a long time. Anyway, I'm prompted sudden to
take Rupert by the arm and insist that he must come and have lunch with
me.

"Why--er--thanks," says the Captain; "but I have a little business to
attend to in here." And h