That's all the satisfaction Mr. Ellins gets, too; so he takes me in tow and we beat it 'steen times around the verandas, him stating his opinions of restoriums in general, Cousin Martha in partic'lar, and now and then shootin' a sarcastic remark at me. But when he sees the other victims begin sneakin' off one by one he growls out: "Well, son, I suppose they'll be locking us out if we don't follow suit. Get the keys to our rooms." First off I thought I could have a great snooze; but it's such a blamed quiet place that I found myself wide awake, with my ear strained to see if I couldn't hear something. After an hour or so of that, I gets up and sits by the open window; but as there ain't any moon or any street lights, it's like starin' down a coalhole. I was wondering if the country was always as black as that at night, and what would happen to anyone that strayed out into it, when all of a sudden I hears a window raised, and way down in the basement under the dining room I sees a bright light shinin' out. "Hello!" thinks I. "Some of the help must be bustin' the rules and regulations." By leanin' out and rubberin' I could look down into the room. And, say, the shock almost tumbled me out. For there's the Doc sittin' in his shirtsleeves with four other gents around a green topped table decorated with stacks of chips. The Doc is just dealin', and before the shade is pulled down again I had time to see him reach under the lower deck and haul up a decanter that might have been full of cold tea. Well, say, I don't do a thing but hustle into my clothes and chase down the corridor to Mr. Ellins' room. Is he int'rested in the tale? He's all of that. "Torchy," says he, "if you can lead me down to that game, I--I'll forgive you. Perhaps I'll do better than that." I used up half a box of matches findin' the way; but at last we located the light comin' through the transom. "Good work!" he whispers. "Now you go back to bed and enjoy a long night's rest." Sure I did--not. I wouldn't have missed hearin' that exchange of happy greetin's for a farm. And the way the Doc chokes up and splutters tryin' to explain things was somethin' lovely. He was gettin' himself as twisted as a pretzel, when Old Hickory breaks in. "That's all right, Doc," says he. "Innocent little relaxation. I understand perfectly. Now, what's the ante?" Well, after that the conversation wasn't so excitin'; nothing but, "I'll take three cards," or "Raise you two more blues." So I sneaks back and falls into the hay once more. At breakfast Mr. Ellins shows up more smilin' and chipper than I'd ever seen him anywhere before. He puts away three soft boiled eggs, a couple of lamb chops, and two cups of coffee made special for him. The Doc he follows us out to the limousine. "Sorry to have you go so soon, Mr. Ellins," says he, rubbin' one hand over the other, "very sorry indeed, sir. And--er--about those memoranda from my assistants. I will see that they are redeemed, you know."