end. And in the midst of this conference Cappy Riggs telephoned.

A portable telephone stood on a commode beside Mr. Skinner's bed, so the
latter answered immediately. Comrade Peck watched Skinner listen
attentively for fully two minutes, then heard him say:

"Mr. Ricks, I'm terribly sorry. I'd love to do this errand for you, but
really I'm under the weather. In fact, I'm in bed as I speak to you now.
But Mr. Peck is here with me and I'm sure he'll be very happy to attend
to the matter for you."

"By all means," Bill Peck hastened to assure the general manager. "Who
does Mr. Ricks want killed and where will he have the body delivered?"

"Hah-hah! Hah-Hah!" Mr. Skinner had a singularly annoying, mirthless
laugh, as if he begrudged himself such an unheard-of indulgence. "Mr.
Peck says," he informed Cappy, "that he'll be delighted to attend to the
matter for you. He wants to know whom you want killed and where you wish
the body delivered. Hah-hah! Hah! Peck, Mr. Ricks will speak to you."

Bill Peck took the telephone. "Good afternoon, Mr. Ricks."

"Hello, old soldier. What are you doing this afternoon?"

"Nothing--after I conclude my conference with Mr. Skinner. By the way,
he has just given me a most handsome boost in salary, for which I am
most appreciative. I feel, however, despite Mr. Skinner's graciousness,
that you have put in a kind word for me with him, and I want to thank
you--"