st have got a glimmer from that; for he rolls his eyes some more,
breathes once like an air-brake bein' cut out, and says: "Our luff is
like twin stars in the sky--each for the other shines."

"It's as bad as all that, is it?" says I. "Well, all I've got to say is
that I'd never thought it of Sadie; and if she sent you down here on
approval, you can tell her I'm satisfied if she is."

I figured that would jar him some, but it didn't. He looked as pleased
as though I'd told him he was the ripest berry in the box, and before I
knew what was comin' he had the long-lost-brother tackle on me, and was
almost weepin' on my neck, splutterin' joy in seven different kinds of
language. Just then Swifty Joe bobs his head in through the gym. door,
springs that gorilla grin of his, and ducks back.

"Break away!" says I. "I don't want to spoil the looks of anythin' that
Sadie's picked out to frame, but this thing has gone about far enough.
If you're glad, and she's glad, then I ain't got any kick comin'. Only
don't rub it in."

[Illustration: He had the long-lost-brother tackle on me.]

Say, it was like talkin' to a deaf man, sayin' things to the Baron.

"She's mine, yes?" says he. "I have your permission, Professeur McCabe?"

"Sure," says I. "If she'll have you, take her and welcome."

Now you'd thought that would have satisfied him, wouldn't you? But he
acted like he'd got a half-arm jolt on the wind. He backed off and
cooled down as if I'd chucked a pail of water over him.

"Well," says I, "you don't want it in writin', do you? I'm just out of
permit blanks, and me secretary's laid up with a bad case of McGrawitis.
If I was you, I'd skip back and keep my eye on Sadie. She might change
her mind."

The Baron thought he'd seen a red flag, though. He put in a worry period
that lasted while you could count fifty. Then he forks out his trouble.

"It is not possible that I have mistake, is it?" says he. "I am learn
that Madam Deepworth is--what you call--one heiress? No?"

See? I'd been sort of lookin' for that; and there it was, as plain as a
real-estate map of Gates of Paradise, Long Island. Me bein' so free and
easy with tellin' him to help himself had thrown up a horrible suspicion
to him. Was it true that Sadie's roll was real money, the kind you
could spend at the store? And say, long's it was up to me to write her
prospectus, I thought I might as well make it a good one.

"Do you see that movin'-van out there?" says I.