don't show up again until after three he's stretchin' the lunch hour a
bit. But, whatever other failin's I may have, I believe in bein' easy
with the boss. So, when he breezes into the private office in the
middle of the afternoon, I just gives him the grin, friendly and
indulgent like.

"Well, Torchy," he calls over to me, "have I missed anyone?"

"Depends on how it strikes you," says I. "Mr. Hamilton Adams has near
burned out the switchboard tryin' to get you on the 'phone. Called up
four times."

"Ham, eh?" says he, shruggin' his shoulders careless. "Then I can
hardly say I regret being late. I trust he left no message."

"This ain't your lucky day," says I. "He did. Wants to see you very
special. Wants you to look him up."

"At the club, I suppose?" says Mr. Robert.

"No, at his rooms," says I.

"The deuce he does!" says Mr. Robert. "Why doesn't he come here if
it's so urgent?"

"He didn't say exactly," says I, "but from hints he dropped I take it
he can't get out. Sick, maybe."

"Humph!" says Mr. Robert, rubbin' his chin thoughtful. "If that is the
case--" Then he stops and stares puzzled into the front of the