of the Corrugated Buildin' interviewin' the assistant superintendent in
his little coop of an office. I comes out whistlin' and lookin' wise.
And that night after I'd made a trip over to Long Island across the
Queensboro Bridge I looks wiser still. Nothin' to do until next
Wednesday.

And when it comes it sure opens up like it's goin' to be a big day, all
right! At first Old Hickory announces that he ain't goin' to have any
cops campin' around in the directors' room. It was all blithering
nonsense! Hadn't he lived through all sorts of warnin's before? And
he'd be eternally blim-scuttled if he was goin' to get cold feet over a
few faded flowers!

There was Piddie, though, with his say. His idea is to have the
reserves from two precincts scattered all over the shop, and he lugs
around such a serious face and talks so panicky that at last the boss
compromises on havin' two of the buildin' specials detailed for the
job. We smuggles 'em into the big room at eleven o'clock, and tells
'em to lay low until they gets the word. Next comes Bingstetter,
blinkin' mysterious, and has himself concealed behind a screen in the
private office. By that time Old Hickory is almost as nervous as
anybody.

"Fine state of affairs, things are at now," he growls, "when a man
isn't safe unless he has a bodyguard! That's what comes of all this
political agitation!"

"Have no fear," says the Doc; "you will not receive the fifth bouquet.
Boy, leave that door into the next room slightly ajar. He will try to
escape that way."