"You!" says he.

"It's this way, sir," says Nivens, in that quiet, offhand style of his.
"I'd always been in the habit of putting by most of my wages, not
needing them to live on. There's tips, you know, sir, and quite a
little one can pick up--commissions from the stores, selling
second-hand clothes and shoes, and so on. So when Cousin Mabel had
this chance to buy out the Madame Ritz Beauty Parlors, where she'd been
forelady for so long, I could furnish half the capital and go in as a
silent partner."

"Wha-a-at?" says Ham, his eyes bugged. "You own a half interest in a
beauty shop--in Madame Ritz's?"

Nivens bows.

"That is strictly between ourselves, sir," says he. "I wouldn't like
it generally known. But it's been quite a success--twelve attendants,
sir, all busy from eleven in the morning until ten at night. Mostly
limousine trade now, for we've doubled our prices within the last two
years. You'll see our ads in all the theater programs and Sunday
papers. That's what brings in the--"

"But see here," breaks in Ham, "how the merry dingbats would you use me
in a beauty parlor? I'm just curious."

Nivens pulls that flickery smile of his again.

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, sir," says he. "In fact, I