Gettin' the picture right side to, I lets out a whistle. No mistakin' that. "Sure I want to go," says I. "Why?" says Vee. "Well, for one thing," says I, "she has china blue eyes that widen out when they look at you, and a queer, quirky little smile that----" "How thrilling!" says Vee. "You must know her very well." "Almost that," says I. "Anyway, I know someone that did know her very well--once." "Oh!" says Vee, forgettin' all about the yarn windin' and hitchin' her chair up close. "That does sound interesting. I hope it isn't a deep secret." "If it wa'n't," says I, "what would be the fun in tellin' it to you?" "Goody!" says Vee. "Who is the poor man who knew her once but doesn't any more?" "Whisper!" says I. "It's Mr. Bob Ellins!" "Wha-a-at!" gasps Vee. "Do you really mean it?" I'd pulled a sensation, all right, and for the next half-hour she keeps me busy tryin' to explain the details of a situation I hadn't more'n half sketched out myself. "Kept a miniature of her on his desk!" Vee rattles on. "And it hadn't been opened for ever so long, you say? What makes you think it hadn't?" "Dusty," says I. "Oh!" says Vee. "Just fancy! And she must have given it to him herself--an ivory miniature, you know. Was--was there another man, do you think, or just some silly misunderstanding? I wonder?" "I hadn't got in that deep," says I. "But suppose it was," says Vee, "only a misunderstanding, wouldn't it be lovely if we could find some way of--of--well, why don't you suggest something?" Did I? Say, we was plottin' so lively there for a spell, with our heads close together, that I can't tell for a fact which it was did get the idea first. But, anyway, when I'm busy at the Corrugated next mornin', openin' the first batch of mail and sortin' the junk from the important letters, I laid the mine. All I had to do was pick out an envelope postmarked Madison Square, ditch the art dealers' card that came in it, and substitute this song recital folder, opened so the picture couldn't be missed. And when I stacks the letters on Mr. Robert's desk I tucks that one in second from the top. Some grand little strategy that, eh? Then I keeps my ear stretched for any remarks Mr. Robert may unload when he makes the great discovery. But, say, when you try dopin' out such a complicated party as Mr. Bob Ellins you've tackled some deep proposition. Nothin' emotional about him, and although I'm sittin' only a dozen feet off, half facin' his way too, I don't get even the hint of a smothered gasp. Couldn't even tell whether he'd seen the picture or not, and by the time I works up an excuse to drift over by his elbow he's halfway through the pile. "Nothin' startlin' in the mornin' run, eh?" I throws out. "Oh, yes," says he. "Mallory reports that those St. Louis people have applied for another injunction. Ring up Bates, will you, and have him call a general council of our legal staff for two-thirty?" "Right," says I. "Er--anything else, Mr. Robert?"