s to the average American
father's vast and profound ignorance of the life, habits, manners and
customs of that common but variable species, the Offspring. Beyond
this it had little value. Average Jones gave its author a few specific
instructions as to minor lines of home investigation, and retired to map
out a tentative campaign.

His first call, on arriving at Toledo, was at the business office of
the Daily Saw, in which he inserted the following paragraph on a
repeat-until-stopped order:

WANTED--Instructor in Spanish. One with recent
Experience preferred. Apply between 9 and 10
A.M. Doctor Hoff, 360 Fairfield Avenue.

Thence he climbed the stairs to the den of the city editor, to whom he
stated his errand openly, being too wise in his day and generation to
attempt concealment or evasion with a newspaper man from whom he wanted
information. The city editor obligingly furnished further details
regarding "Rickey" Hoff, as he called the young man, which, while
differing in important respects from Doctor Hoff's, bore the ear-marks
of superior accuracy.

"The worst of it is," said the newspaper man, "that there are elements
of decency about the young cub, if he'd keep sober. He won't go into
the old boy's business, because he hates it. Says it's all rot and lies.
He's dead right, of course. But there's nothing else for him to do, so
he just fights booze. Better make a few inquiries at Silent Charley's."

"What's that?"

"Quiet little bar kept by a talkative Swede. 'Rickey' Hoff hung out
there a lot. Charley even had a room fixed up for him to lay off in when
he was too pickled to go home."

"Would--er--young Hoff--er--perhaps keep a few--er--extra clothes
there?" asked Average Jones, seemingly struggling with a yawn.

The city editor stared. "Oh, I dare say. He used to end his sprees
pretty much mussed up."

"That would perhaps explain where the shirt came from," murmured the
Ad-Visor. "Much obliged for the suggestion. I'll just step around."

"Silent Charley" he found ready, even eager to talk. Yes; "Rickey" Hoff
had been in his place right along. Drunk? No; not even drinking much
lately. Two other gentlemen had met him there quite often. They sat in
the back room and talked. No, neither of them was Spanish. One was big
and clean-shaven and wore a silk hat. They called him "Colonel." A swell
dresser. The other man drank gin, and a lot of it. His name was Fred. He
was very tanned. One day th