cs, now," says I, "what's puttin' up the bars on
this get-together motion, eh?"

Well, considerin' that Bixby is English and don't understand the
American language very well, we got along fine. Once or twice, there, I
thought I should have to call in an interpreter; but by bein' careful to
state things simple, and by goin' over some of the points two or three
times slow, we managed to make out what each other meant.

It seems that Marcus T. is more or less of a frail and tender party.
Dashin' out for a Union League luncheon, fillin' himself up on _poulet
en casserole_ and such truck, not to mention Martinis and demi-tasses
and brunette perfectos, was clean out of the question.

"My word!" says Bixby, rollin' his eyes. "His physician would never
allow it, you know."

"Suppose he took a chance and didn't tell the doc?" I suggests.

"Impossible," says Bixby. "He is with him constantly--travels with him,
you understand."

I didn't get it all at first, but I sopped it up gradual. Marcus T.
wasn't takin' any casual flit from his Palm Beach winter home to his
Newport summer place. No jumpin' into a common Pullman for him, joinin'
the smokin'-room bunch, and scrabblin' for his meals in the diner.
Hardly.

He was travelin' in his private car, with his private secretary, his
private physician, his trained nurse, his private chef, and most likely,
his private bootblack. And he was strictly under his doctor's orders. He
wasn't even goin' to have a peek at Broadway or Fifth Avenue; for,
although a suite had been engaged for him at the Plutoria, the Doc had
ruled against it only that mornin'. No; he had to stay in the private
car, that had been run on a special sidin' over in the Pennsylvania
yards.

"So you see," says Bixby, spreadin' out his varnished finger-nails
helpless. "And yet, I am sure he would very much like to have a chat
with his old friend Mr. Ellins."

I had all I could do to choke back a haw-haw. His old friend, eh? Oh, I
expect they might be called friends, in a way. They hadn't actually
stuck any knives into each other. And 'way back, when they was both
operatin' in Chicago, I understand they was together a good deal. But
since---- Well, maybe at a circus you've seen a couple of old tigers
pacin' back and forth in nearby cages and catchin' sight of one another
now and then? Something like that.

"Friend" wasn't the way Marcus T. was indexed on our books. If we
spotted any suspicious moves in the market,