t about Percey?" says he.

"He's the goods," says I.

"Couldn't scare him, eh?" says Old Hickory.

"Not if I'd been a mile high," says I. "He won't sell, either. And
say, Mr. Ellins, you want to get next to Percey J. The way I look at
it, this George Wesley Jones stiff ain't the man behind him; Percey is
the man behind Jones."

"H-m-m-m-m!" says Old Hickory. "I knew there was someone; but I
couldn't trace him. So it's Sturgis, eh? That being so, we need him
with us."

"But ain't he tied up with Jones?" says I.

"Jones is a dead dog," says Old Hickory. "At least, he will be inside
of a week."

That was some prophecy, eh? Read in the papers, didn't you, how G.
Wesley cables over his resignation from Baden Two Times? Couldn't
stand the strain. The directors are still squabblin' over who to put
in as head of the P., B. & R.; but if you want to play a straight
inside tip put your money on Percey J. Uh-huh! Him and Old Hickory
have been confabbin' in there over an hour now, and if he hadn't
flopped to our side would Mr. Ellins be tellin' him funny stories?
Anyway, we're backin' that Palisades line now, and it's goin' through
with a whoop.

Which is earnin' some int'rest on a pound of choc'lates and a smile.
What?

CHAPTER XVI

HOW WHITY GUNKED THE PLOT

I knew something or other outside of business was puttin' hectic spots
in Old Hickory's disposition these last few days; but not until late
yesterday did I guess it was Cousin Inez.

I expect the Ellins family wasn't any too proud of Cousin Inez, to
start with; for among other things she's got a matrimonial record.
Three hubbies so far, I understand, two safe in a neat kept plot out in
Los Angeles; one in the discards--and she's just been celebratin' the
decree by travelin' abroad. They hadn't seen much of her for years;
but durin' this New York stopover visit she seemed to be makin' up for
lost time.

About four foot eight Cousin Inez was in her French heels, and fairly
thick through. Maybe it was the way she dressed, but from just below
her double chin she looked the same size all the way down. Tie a
Bulgarian sash on a sack of bran, and you've got the model. Inez was a
bear for sashes too. Another thing she was strong on was hair.
Course, the store blond part didn't quite match the sandy gray that
grew underneath, and the near-auburn frontispiece was another tint
still; but all that added variety and quantity--and what more could yo