, anyway."

As for Aunt Martha, she keeps right on thinnin' out the soup.

CHAPTER XIII

SIFTING OUT UNCLE BILL

Things happen to you quick, don't they, when the happenin' is good? Take
this affair of Zenobia's. One day I'm settled down all comfy and solid
with two old near-aunts who'd been livin' in the same place and doin'
the same things for the last thirty years or so, and the next--well, off
one of 'em goes, elopes with an old-time beau of hers that happens to
show up here just because Europe is bein' shot up.

And then, before I've recovered from that jolt, comes this human
surprise package labeled Dorsett, who blows breezy into the Corrugated.
Fair-haired Vincent, who still holds my old place on the brass gate,
brings in his card.

"William H. Dorsett?" says I. "Never heard of the party. Did he ask for
Mutual Funding?"

"No, Sir," says Vincent. "He asked for you, Sir."

"How?" says I.

At which Vincent tints up embarrassed. "He said he wished to talk to a
young fellow known as Torchy, Sir," says he.

"Almost a description of me, ain't it?" says I. "Well, tow him in,
Vincent, until I see if his map's any more familiar than his name."

It wa'n't. He's a middle-aged gent, kind of tall and stoop-shouldered,
with curly hair that's started to frost up above the ears. The raincoat
he's wearin' is a little seedy, specially about the collar and cuffs;
but he's sportin' a silver-mounted walkin'-stick, and has a new pair of
yellow gloves stickin' from his breast pocket.

With a free and easy stride he follows Vincent's directions, sails over
to my corner of the private office, pulls up a chair, and camps down by
the desk without any urgin'. Also he favors me with a friendly smile
that he produces from one corner of his mouth. Sort of a catchy smile it
is too, and before we've swapped a word I finds myself smilin' back.

"Well!" says I. "You're introducin' what?"

"Just William H. Dorsett," says he.

"You do it well," says I.

He allows the off corner of his mouth to loosen up again, and for a
second his deep-set brown eyes steady down as he gives me the once-over.
Kind of an amused, quizzin' look it is, but more or less foxy. He
crosses his legs and hitches up his chair confidential.

"I imagine you're rather used to handling big propositions here," says
he, takin' in the office mahogany, the expensive floor rugs, and
everything else in a quick glance: "so I hope you won't mind if I
present a s