lly commercialized
intelligence," comes back Mr. Mills, "I have created a character which
is too deep and too subtle for any available American actress to handle.
If I could only find the original now, with her tractable genius for
doing exactly what she was told----"

"Why not send out for her, then?" asks Mr. Robert.

"As though I hadn't!" says Oakley. "Two weeks ago I located the hotel
manager in Florida and wired him a full description of the girl. All I
got from him was that he'd heard she was somewhere in New York."

"How simple!" says Mr. Robert. "Here is my young friend Torchy, with
wits even more brilliant than his hair. Ask him to find Fannie for
you."

"A girl whose name I don't even know!" protests Oakley. "How in blazes
could anyone trace a----"

"I'll bet you the dinners," cuts in Mr. Robert, "that Torchy can do it."

"Taken," says Mr. Mills, and turns to me brisk. "Now, young man, what
further details would you like?"

"Don't happen to have a lock of her hair with you?" says I, grinnin'.

"Alas, no!" says he. "She favored me with no such mark of her esteem."

"Was it kind of ginger-colored," says I, "and done in a braid round her
head?"

"Why--er--I believe it was," says he.

"And didn't she have sort of droopy shoulders," I goes on, "and a trick
of starin' vague, with her mouth part way open?"

"Yes, yes!" says he eager. "But--but whom are you describing?"

"Ruby Everschott," says I. "Come down to the Corrugated and take a
look."

Course it seemed like a 100 to 1 chance, but when I got the Wisconsin
part of his yarn, and tacked it onto the rest, it didn't seem likely one
State could produce two such specimens. Inside of fifteen minutes the
three of us was strollin' casual through the front offices.

"Glance down the line of lady typists," I whispers to Oakley.

"By George!" says he gaspy. "The one at the far end?"

"You win," says I.

"And you also, my young wizard," says Oakley.

"I'll have her sent into my private office," suggests Mr. Robert.

And once more I was lookin' for some startled motions from Ruby when she
discovers Mr. Mills. But in she comes, as woodeny and stiff as ever,
goes to her little table, and spreads out her notebook, without glancin'
at any of us.

"Pardon me, Miss Everschott," says Mr. Robert, "but--er--my friend Mills
here fancies that he--er--ah--oh, hang it all! you say it, Oakley."

At which Mr. Mills steps up smilin'. I should judge he was a fairly