Friday was a good day. Slim only chuckled when I told him there was a man sitting across the street with a pad of paper and a pencil, tallying the cars that came in and those that went out. "We're good for tomorrow," said Slim, "then they can have it. I've got plane reservations for two a.m." He didn't say so, but I think he was getting as tight inside as I was. We were close--thirty hours from five thousand dollars--enough to go through college in good shape. Saturday was a bell-ringer. By six o'clock in the evening we had parked over four thousand cars, and they were still coming. The safe was full of tens and twenties, all nicely wrapped and labeled, and our two suitcases were beside it. Still the money was pouring in. Nine cars a minute. One every seven seconds. Two hundred and fifty dollars an hour. It was better than a mint. The basement floor was beginning to fill up. At six-thirty Slim was bringing a car back to full size and saying to me, "Watch this one. This is the building inspector's car; he's trying to get a clue." At that exact moment a voice spoke behind us. "I beg your pardon, gentlemen." It was one of those clear, soft voices with little tinkling bells in it. Know what I mean? Slim turned and stared. "Madam," he said, "don't you know the sign says 'No Admittance'?" She looked repentant. "I'm sorry." She looked hurt. "I didn't think you gentlemen would mind." She turned as if to go. I saw Slim melting down. I didn't blame him. That girl could have melted tungsten. Yes, I recognized her from her pictures in the society section--the mayor's wife. Slim was apologizing. "I beg your pardon, Madam. It's quite all right. Your loveliness and radiant beauty just startled us. We--" While Slim was laying it on thick, the building inspector's car was expanding. Now it became considerably too big for the stall and split it like a stick of dynamite going off in a shoe-box. It split it into a thousand pieces and then stood there, a passenger car seven feet tall. [Illustration: The mayor's wife gasped as she saw the tiny car.] The mayor's wife gave a little scream of delight. Slim gave a horrified gasp. I tried to faint. "Oh," she said, "such a big car!" Slim moaned. "Please, Madam, will you leave now?" She looked hurt again. "Yes, but will you please put this package in my car?" "I will," said Slim, through tight jaws. "But--" "Why, that looks just like the building inspector's car," she said, wide-eyed. "It's his number, too." "Madam," begged Slim, "you're no dummy; please leave now and let us get on with our work." She walked upstairs dubiously. Slim was studying the enormous car with a hopeless look on his face. Orders for cars to be taken out were pouring down the chute.