"I ought to, Buck. I've just raised the devil and spilled the beans
on the N. C. O."
"To whom, when, and where?"
"To Pennington's niece, over the telephone about two hours ago."
Buck Ogilvy smote his left palm with his right fist. "And you've
waited two hours to confess your crime? Zounds, man, this is bad."
"I know. Curse me, Buck. I've probably talked you out of a good job."
"Oh, say not so, old settler. We may still have an out. How did you
let the cat out of the bag?"
"That remarkable girl called me up, and accused you of being a mere
screen for me and amazed me so I admitted it."
Ogilvy dropped his red head in simulated agony and moaned. Presently
he raised it and said: "Well, it might have been worse. Think of what
might have happened had she called in person. She would have picked
your pocket for the corporate seal, the combination of the safe, and
the list of stockholders, and probably ended up by gagging you and
binding you in your own swivel-chair."
"Don't, Buck. Comfort and not abuse is what I need now."
"All right. I'll conclude my remarks by stating that I regard you as
a lovable fat-head devoid of sufficient mental energy to pound the
proverbial sand into the proverbial rat-hole. Now, then, what do you
want me to do to save the day?"
"Deliver to me by six o'clock Thursday night a temporary franchise
from the city council, granting the N.
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