"Whe-e-e-ew!" says I, through my front teeth. "This is _so_ sudden. Just tell the lady, will you, that I've resigned." "No you don't, Shorty," says the Boss. "You'll see this thing through." "But look at them circus clothes," says I. "I've got no aunts or grandmothers, or second cousins that I could unload a Lady Brigandess on." "Nor I," says the Boss. But he didn't look half so worried as he might. Say, when I came to figure out what we were up against, I could feel little cold storage whiffs on my shoulder blades. Suppose someone should meet you in the middle of Herald Square, hand you a ring-tailed tiger, and then skiddoo. What? That would be an easy one compared to our proposition. It wasn't a square deal to shake her, and she'd made up her mind not to stay put anywhere again. "Wait here until I telephone someone," says the Boss. "De-lighted!" says I. "Better ring up the Gerry Society, too, while you're about it. They might help us out." The Lady Brigandess and I didn't have a real sociable time while the Boss was gone. I could see she was watchin' every move I made, as much as to say, "You can't lose me, Charlie." It was just as cheery as waitin' in the Sergeant's room for bail. When the Boss does show up he wears a regular breakfast food smile that made me leary, for when he looks tickled it don't signify that things are coming his way. Generally it only means that he's goin' to break out in a new spot. "It just occurred to me," says he, "that I had accepted an invitation from the Van Urbans for the opera." "What kind of a bluff did you throw?" says I. "None at all, Shorty," says he. "I just asked if they would have room for three, and they said they would." Say, the Boss don't need no nerve tonic, does he? You know about the Van Urbans, don't you? They weigh in at something like forty millions and are a good fifth on Mrs. Astor's list. "Straight goods, now," says I, "you don't reckon to spring this aggregation on the diamond horse-shoe, do you?" "We must put in the time somehow," says he. I thought it might be all a grand josh, until I'd watched some of his moves. First we drives over to Fift' avenue and stops at one of those places where it says "Robes" on a brass plate outside. The Boss stays in there four minutes and comes out with a piece of dry goods that they must have stood him up a hundred for--kind of an opera cloak, ulster length, all rustly black silk outside and white inside. The Lady Brigandess she puts it on with no more fuss than as if she'd been brought up on such things and had ordered this one a month ahead.