oony was babbling away
again and that Mort was having to listen for the sake of the pose.

When at last he hung up, he emerged mopping his face with a gaily
colored handkerchief. The look he shot me was confirmation enough that
the loony was still on the wire.

* * * * *

Unable to feel too sorry for the boys, I concealed a grin behind a
yawn, nodded to them both, and left the place. Upstairs once more in
my office I got back into a rather muggy stream of work on which I
found difficulty concentrating.

For some reason I couldn't at first explain to myself, I kept thinking
about the telephone loony of Mike and Mort's. Not because of the
ironically ridiculous turmoil it threw them into, but for some other
reason far more subtle, but which I was unable to put my finger on.

The thing amused me, puzzled me, and yet, somehow was beginning to
trouble me. Not through any great sympathy for Mike or Mort, of
course. It will be a cold day when my heart bleeds for bookmakers. But
something or other _was_ growing more and more bothersome. I thought
about it a while, then shoved it out of my mind and got back to work.

I was able to grind along for a couple of hours without having it come
back into my mind. And when it popped up again, I shoved it away once
more just as quickly. I had to get that work out, and I knew I
wouldn't if I stewed any longer over the telephone loony who was quite
probably still playing hob with Mike and Mort at that moment.

It was a little after five o'clock, five-fifteen, to be exact,
when--work or no work--the thing hit me. Bang! Like that I knew what'd
been in the back of my mind.

How in the name of blazes had the telephone loony been able to stay on
that wire so indefinitely? Why hadn't the operator broken in to end
the connection each time Mort or Mike hung up? It seemed logical that
she would have done so. The loony couldn't have just held onto the
telephone and been right on tap the moment Mort or Mike picked up the
hook. The loony could have called them, of course, but it would have
been impossible for him to be on hand every time they picked up the
telephone when it hadn't been ringing!

I left my typewriter, not even bothering to remove the page in it, and
hurried out of the office. Downstairs I found the "cigar store"
completely deserted except for Mike and Mort. The day's races were
over, and dice customers who were willing enough to roll cubes in
off