"The author of these valentines," said the Doctor, "is to be spotted, the way I diagnose the case, by his desire that professional people should be constantly giving away their services. He objects to the Doctor's bill and he slaps sarcastically at the Lawyer because he doesn't _give_ advice. That's why I suspect the Idiot. He's a professional Idiot, and yet he gives his idiocy away." "When did I ever give myself away?" demanded the Idiot. "You are talking wildly, Doctor. The idea of your trying to drag me into this thing is preposterous. Suppose you show down your valentine and see if it is in my handwriting." "Mine is typewritten," said the Doctor. "So is mine," said the Bibliomaniac. "Mine, too," said the Poet. "Same here," said Mr. Brief. "Well, then," said the Idiot, "I'm willing to write a page in my own hand without any attempt to disguise it, and let any handwriting expert decide as to whether there is the slightest resemblance between my chirography and these typewritten sheets you hold in your hand." "That's fair enough," said Mr. Whitechoker. "Besides," persisted the Idiot, "I've received one of the things myself, and it'll make your hair curl, if you've got any. Typewritten like the rest of 'em. Shall I read it?" By common consent the Idiot read the following: "Idiot, zany, brain of hare, Dolt and noodle past compare, Buncombe, bosh, and verbal slosh, Mind of nothing, full of josh, Madman, donkey, dizzard-pate, U. S. Zero Syndicate, Dull, depressing, lack of wit, Incarnation of the nit. Minus, numskull, drivelling baby, Greenhorn, dunce, and dotard Gaby; All the queer and loony chorus Found in old Roget's _Thesaurus_, Flat and crazy through and through, That, O Idiot--that is you. Let me tell you, sir, in fine, _I_ won't be your Valentine. "What do you think of that?" asked the Idiot, when he had finished. "Wouldn't that jar you?" "I think it's perfectly horrid," said Mrs. Pedagog. "Mary, pass the pancakes to the Idiot. Mr. Idiot, let me hand you a full cup of coffee. John, hand the Idiot the syrup. Why, how a thing like that should be allowed to go through the mails passes me!" And the others all agreed that the landlady's indignation was justified, because they were fond of the Idiot in spite of his faults. They would not see him abused, at any rate. * * * * * "Say, old man," said the Poet, later, "I really thought you sent those other valentines until you read yours." "I thought you would," said the Idiot. "That's the reason why I worked up that awful one on myself. That relieves me of all suspicion." IV HE DISCUSSES FINANCE A messenger had just brought a "collect" telegram for the Doctor, and that gentleman, after going through all his pockets, and finding nothing but a bunch of keys and a prescription-pad, made the natural inquiry: "Anybody got a quarter?"