Mort is short, slightly on the plump side, with straight, dark hair, a round, beaming face, and a penchant for flamboyantly colored sport shirts. "Nothing's new with me," I told him, "but plenty seems to be new with Mike. He's cursing the State's Attorney's office again." Mort frowned. "Whatcha mean? What's on the fire now? I didn't read the morning rags yet." Briefly, I told him about the news story which had excited his partner. He nodded, thought a moment, then grinned. "They can't do that," he said. "It's illegal." "Tell Mike, if that's so," I said. "He's working himself into a boil." Mort hadn't heard me. He was frowning thoughtfully again. "Or can they?" he wondered aloud. "Where's that news story?" I pointed to the paper on the counter and he stepped over to it. I started to leave again, but at that moment the telephone booth in the corner shook from side to side and Mike stepped out, face red with wrath. "I'd like to get my hands on that guy, the wisenheimer!" he growled. "Hah! Practical jokes, eh?" Again I stopped at the door. "What's wrong this time?" I demanded. "Or is it still the State's Attorney you're frothing about?" "Some guy," Mike thundered explosively, "just called to say he wanted to talk to Hitler and Mussolini. Wise guy, hah, the louse!" "Hitler and Mussolini?" I demanded. "Who was it?" "Wouldn't I like to know," Mike exclaimed redly. "Wouldn't I just like to know!" He made a grasping gesture with his two big fists, indicating what he would do to the party if he did know. Mort had put down the newspaper and had been listening to Mike's explosion. "Don't bust your buttons, Mike," Mort advised. "It's probably just one of our customers having a gag." "Bum gag, I say. If they wanta gag whyn't they gag funny?" Mike snorted angrily. "Talk to Hitler and Mussolini, eh? Huh!" And at that juncture, the telephone rang again. Mort looked up, then looked at me and winked. He turned to Mike, who'd started wrathfully for the booth. "Hold it, chumly," Mort said. "I'll answer this one. If it's the joker again I can handle him better than you can." * * * * * Mort walked nonchalantly over to the booth, took down the receiver, and turned to wink again at me. "Hello," Mort said. Obviously the voice on the other end of the wire said something. Mort grinned. "They ain't here," Mort said, grinning more widely. "No. Not either of 'em. Adolf sleeps late and don't get down until noon. Benito is out having himself a milkshake. Who'll I tell 'em called? Huh? What's that? You call back? But who'll I tell 'em called? Huh? Gab--Gabby? What?" Mort put the receiver back on the hook and turned back to us, stepping out of the booth. "The joker said to tell Adolf and Benito he'd call back later. I didn't get his name, but it sounded like Gabby. Smart joe, this Gabby." Mike was glaring. "Gabby, eh? Gabby, Gabby, Gabby," he scratched his red head frowningly. "Who do I know named Gabby?"