undisturbed. Until then, Sir, au revoir."

With that he bows dignified and motions Piddie to lead the way out. I
slides out too, leavin' Old Hickory sittin' there starin' sort of
puzzled and worried at the wall. And, honest, whether you took any
stock in the Doc's yellow forecast or not, it listens kind of creepy.
Course, with him usin' all that highbrow language, I couldn't exactly
follow how he gets to it; but there's no denyin' that it sounds mighty
convincin'.

And yet--well, I can't say just what there was about Bingstetter that
got me leery; but somehow he reminds me of a street faker or a museum
lecturer. And it does seem sort of fishy that, just by gazin' at a
bunch of flowers, he could dope out all this wild tale about five
desp'rate men. Still, there was no gettin' away from the fact that he
had hit it right about the bouquets appearin' reg'lar every Wednesday.
That must mean something. But why Wednesdays? Now, what was there
that happens on Wednesday that don't----

Say, you know how you'll get a fool hunch sometimes, that'll seem such
a nutty proposition first off that you'll almost laugh at yourself for
havin' it; and yet how it'll rattle around in your bean persistent,
until you quit tryin' to get rid of it? Well, this one of mine strikes
me about as I'm snugglin' down into the hay that night, and there was
no gettin' away from it for hours.

I expect I did tear off a few chunks of slumber between times; but I
was wide awake long before my regular hour for rollin' out, and after
makin' three or four stabs at a second nap I gives it up, slips down
for an early breakfast, and before eight A.M. I'm down in the basement