"

"In the name of all that's brilliant," breaks in Old Hickory, "how did
you ever do that?"'

"Why, I got to thinkin' about it," says I, "and it struck me that we
had our glass cleaned every Wednesday, and if there was no way of
anyone smugglin' flowers in through the doors, the windows was all
there was left, wa'n't it? Also who's most likely to be monkeyin'
around outside, fifteen stories up, but a window washer?"

"Ha!" says Old Hickory through his teeth. "And did you do that by the
introdeductive process, may I ask?"

"No such bunk as that," says I. "Just used my bean, that's all. Then
I got Mac, the assistant buildin' super, to put me wise as to who had
the windows on our floor, and by throwin' a bluff over the 'phone I
made the Consolidated people locate Mr. Cubbins for me. Found him
putterin' round in his garden over in Astoria, and pumped more or less
out of him; but when it come to gettin' him to explain why it was he'd
picked you out, Mr. Ellins, as a mark for his bouquets, I fell down
complete. Mr. Cubbins is English, as maybe you noticed by his talk,
and he used to be a house painter before his health got so bad. Now he
lives with his son-in-law, who tells me that the old gent----"

"'E's a bit of a liar, my son-in-law is," pipes up Cubbins; "a bally
Socialist, Sir, and I'm ashymed to s'y 'as 'ow 'e's fond of abusin' 'is
betters. Thet's 'ow it all come abaht, Sir. Alw'ys tykin' on over the
rich, 'e is; and 'e's most fond of s'yin' wrong things abaht you
special, Sir; callin' you a bloodsucking predatory person, Sir, and
himpolite nimes like thet. 'Ah, stow thet, Jimmy!!' says I. 'All
bloomin' lies, they are. There ayn't a finer man lives than Mr.
Ellins,' says I. ''Ow do you know?' says 'e. ''Ow?' says I. 'Don't I
wash 'is hoffice windows?' But 'e keeps at it of evenin's, s'yin' as
'ow you do this and that, an' 'e fair talks me down, Jimmy does. But I
know w'at I knows; so to relieve my feelin's a bit I've been bringin'
you the flowers on the sly, Sir; meanin', as I says before, no 'arm at
all, Sir."

"Well, I'll be dashed!" says Old Hickory, squintin' at Cubbins
humorous. "So you think I'm a good man, eh?"

"I'm quite sure of it, Sir," says he. "As I was tellin' Jimmy only
last night, 'W'y, at 'ome 'e'd be a Lord!' And so you would, Sir.
But, as I sees it, you're just as much 'ere, Sir. You build things up,
and keep things goin',--big things, such as the likes of me and Jimmy