And I finds Elisha P. sittin' there rubbin' his hands expectant. He must have suspicioned I was easy all the while, or he wouldn't have hung on so; but after this exhibition I expect he felt it was only a matter of makin' a few passes and then walkin' off with everything but my shirt. Fact is, though, I'd had some new dope on this property, and while it looked like a thirty-to-one shot I thought I'd take a chance. Course, he tries to close the deal outright; but the option is as far as I'll go. For weeks after that, though, I carried four hundred on the books with a minus sign in front. Then I crossed it off altogether. Not a word from the Morans. Nothing doing in the way of buying booms around Sucker Brook. But you got to stand some losses now and then if you're goin' to keep in line for an occasional big cleanup. And, anyway, it was worth while to head Elisha P. Bayne's boob list. You ought to see the sarcastic smiles he used to shoot over when we'd meet and he'd ask if I'd heard from, my dancing friends yet. Say, I expect I furnished the one joke of his life. I did bank on gettin' back something from Millie, though, if only a money order for ten on account. But all through June and July, clear into August, not a whisper. Whatever her scheme had been, it must have gone wrong. And then here one mornin' last week as I'm gazin' idle out the front window onto 42d-st., up rolls a taxi, and out climbs a couple that you might have said had been shot over by aeroplane from the Rue de Rivoli. Couldn't tell that so much from her getup as from the Frenchy hat and boulevard whiskers he's sportin'. First brick red imperial I ever remember seein' too. It ain't until they've climbed the stairs and walked in the studio door, though, that I even had a glimmer as to who they was. But one glance at them black eyes of the lady's was enough. "Well, I'll be singed!" says I. "The Morans!" "Of London and Paris," adds Millie. "Gwan!" says I. "Show him, Tim," says she. At which Timothy extracts from the inside of his silk tile a billboard poster announcing the comin', for a limited engagement only, of those European tango wizards, Mons. and Mlle. Moran. "I cabled our agents we wouldn't sail until we'd seen a sample of the paper," says Millie. "Gee!" says I. "You must have got next!"