d inside of two minutes
I'm bein' announced impressive in the library at the back: "From your
attorneys, sir." Which as far as it goes is showin' some speed, eh?

Yea-uh! That's the way I felt about it. All I asked was to be put
next to this Pettigrew party. Not that I had any special spell to work
off on him; but, as Old Hickory said, he must be human, and if he was,
why-- Well, about then I begun to get the full effect of this weird,
double-barreled stare.

Now, I don't mind takin' the once-over from a single pair of
shell-rimmed goggles; but to find yourself bein' inspected through two
sets of barn windows--honest, it seemed like the room was full of
spectacles. I glanced hasty from one to the other of these
solemn-lookin' parties ranged behind the book barricade, and then takes
a chance that the one with the sharp nose and the dust-colored hair is
T. Waldo.

"Mr. Pettigrew?" says I, smilin' friendly and winnin'.

"Not at all," says he, a bit pettish.

"Oh, yes," says I, turnin' to the broken-nosed one with the wavy black
pompadour effect. "Of course."

He's some younger than the other, in the late twenties, I should judge,
and has sort of a stern, haughty stare.

"Why of course?" he demands.

"Eh?" says I. "Why--er--well, you've got my note, ain't you, there in
your hand?"

"Ah!" says he. "Rather a clever deduction; eh, Tidman?"

"I shouldn't say so," croaks the other. "Quite obvious, in fact. If
it wasn't me it must be you."

"Oh, but you're such a deucedly keen chap," protests Waldo. Then he
swings back to me. "From my attorneys?"

"Just came from there," says I.

"Odd," says he. "I don't remember having seen you before."

"That's right," says I. "You see, Mr. Pettigrew, I'm really
representin' the Corrugated Trust and--"

"Don't know it at all," breaks in Waldo.

"That's why I'm here," says I. "Now, here's our proposition."

And say, before he can get his breath or duck under the table, I've
spread out the blue-prints and am shootin' the prospectus stuff into
him at the rate of two hundred words to the minute.

Yes, I must admit I was feedin' him a classy spiel, and I was just
throwin' the gears into high-high for a straightaway spurt when all of
a sudden I gets the hunch I ain't makin' half the hit I hoped I was.
It's no false alarm, either. T. Waldo's gaze is gettin' sterner every
minute, and he seems to be stiffenin' from the neck down.

"I say," he breaks in, "are--ar