And you should have seen the look of disgust on Jarvis's face as he sizes
up the specimen. "Oh, I say now, Shorty," he begins, "there's such a
thing as----"

"G'wan!" says I. "Wa'n't you just tellin' me about how you was plannin' a
job for the coroner? And Heiney's been threatenin' to do the same thing
for weeks. He comes in here every day or so and talks about jumpin' off
the dock, or doin' the air dance. I've been stavin' him off with slugs of
prune brandy and doses of good advice; but if a chap like you has caught
the fever, then I see I've been doin' wrong not to let Heiney have his
way. Now there's the back room, with plenty of rope and gasjets. Get on
in there, both of you, and make a reg'lar bee of it!"

Heiney, he stands blinkin' and starin' at Jarvis, until he gets him so
nervous he almost screams.

"For Heaven's sake, Shorty," says Jarvis, "let's not joke about such a
subject!"

"Joke!" says I. "You're the one that's supplyin' the comedy here. Now
Heiney is serious. He'd do the trick in a minute if he had the nerve.
He's got things on his mind, Heiney has. And what's the odds if they
ain't so? Compared to what you've been fussin' about, they're----Here,
Heiney, you tell the gentleman that tale of yours. Begin where you was a
cook in some seashore hotel in Switzerland."

"Not zeashore! _Non_!" says Heiney, droppin' his pail and wavin' one
hand. "Eet ees at Lack Como, in ze montongs. I am ze head chef, _moi!_"

"Yes, you look it!" says I. "A fine figure of a chef you'd make! wouldn't
you? Well, go on: about bein' full of prunes when they called on you to
season the soup. What was it you dumped in instead of salt,--arsenic,
eh?"

"_Non, non!_" says Heiney, gettin' excited. "Ze poison for ze r-r-rat. I
keep heem in one tin can, same as ze salt. I am what you call intoxicate.
I make ze mistak'. Ah, _diable! Deux, trois_--t'ree hundred guests are
zere. Zey eat ze soup. Zen come by me ze _maitre d'hotel._ He say ze soup
ees spoil. Eet has ze foony taste. Ah, mon _Dieu! Mon_----"

"Yes, yes," says I. "Never mind whether it was Monday or Tuesday. What
did you do then?"

"_Moi_? I fly!" says Heiney. "I am distract. I r-r-r-run on ze
r-r-r-road. I tear-r-r off my white apron, my white chapeau. Ah,
_sacr-r-re nom!_ How my heart is thoomp, thoomp, on my inside! All night
I speak to myself: 'You have keel zem all! Ze _belle_ ladies! Ze _pauvre_
shildren! All, you have poi-zon-ed! Zey make to tweest up on ze floor