I didn't mean to stage any heart-throb piece, either; but it just happens that yesterday, when we pulls off the final act, Vee tells me that Helma is in the libr'y, playin' nurse and hairdresser to Aunty's chief pet, a big orange Persian that she calls Prince Hal. That's how Helma had won out with Aunty, you know, by makin' friends with the cat. "You tell her," says Vee. So I steps in quiet where the youngster is busy with the comb and brush. "Someone special to see Miss Helma," says I. "To see me?" says she, droppin' pussy and gazin' at the door. "Why, who can---- O-o-o-o-o! Daddums! Daddums!" And as they rush to a fond clinch in one room something happens to me in the other. Uh-huh! I'm caught around the neck quick, and something soft and sweet hits me on the right cheek, and the next minute I'm bein' pushed away just as sudden. "No, no!" says Vee. "That's enough. You're a dear, all the same. Of course I knew he didn't take it; but how in the world did you ever make them let him go?" "Cinch!" says I. "I saw through the sawdust, and they didn't." I couldn't let on, though, about that inside tip I got from Arabella. CHAPTER X THEN ALONG CAME SUKEY It looked like it was Kick-in Day, or something like that; for here was Nutt Hamilton, a sporty young plute friend of Mr. Robert's, that I'm tryin' to entertain, camped in the private office, when fair-haired Vincent comes in off the brass gate to report respectful this new arrival. "A gentleman to see Mr. Robert, Sir," says he. "Well, he's still out," says I. "So I told him, Sir," says Vincent; "but then he asks if Mr. Ferdinand isn't here. I didn't know, Sir. Is there a----" "Sure, Vincent, sure!" says I. "Brother-in-law Ferdie, you know. What's the gentleman's real name?" "Mr. Blair Hiscock," says Vincent, readin' the card. "Ever hear that one?" I asks Hamilton, and he says he ain't. "Must be some fam'ly friend, though," I goes on. "We'll take a chance, Vincent. Tell Blair to breeze in." I might have had bean enough to have looked for another pair of shell-rimmed glasses too. That's what shows up. Only this party, instead of beamin' mild and foolish through 'em, same as Ferdie does, stares through his sort of peevish. He's a pale-haired, sharp-faced, undersized young gent too, and dressed sort of finicky in one of them Ballyhooly cape coats, an artist necktie, and a two-story soft hat with a striped scarf wound around it. "Well?" says I, leanin' back in the swing chair and doin' my best to spring the genial smile. "Isn't Ferdinand here, then?" he demands, glancin' about impatient. "Good guess," says I. "He ain't. Drifts in about once a month, though, as a rule, and as it's been three weeks or so since he was here last, maybe you'd like to----" "How absurd!" snaps Blair. "But he was to meet me here to-day at this time." "Was, eh?" says I. "Well, if you know Ferdie, you can gamble that he'll be an hour or two behind, if he gets here at all."