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of that kind, as you can guess. He reads it clear through, though, without even a grunt. Then he waves me into a chair. "As it happens, Torchy," says he, "this was meant for no one but me." "My error," says I. "I didn't read it, though." He don't seem to take much notice of that statement, just sits there gazin' vacant at the wall and fingerin' his cigar. After a minute or so of this he remarks, sort of to himself: "Bonnie, eh? Well, well!" I might have smiled. Probably I did, for the last person in the world you'd look for anything like mushy sentiments from would be Old Hickory Ellins. Couldn't have been much more than a flicker of a smile at that. But them keen old eyes of his don't miss much that's going on, even when he seems to be in a trance. He turns quick and gives me one of them quizzin' stares. "Funny, isn't it, son," says he, "that I should still be called Dear Old Pal by the most fascinating woman in the world?" "Oh, I don't know," says I, tryin' to pull the diplomatic stuff. "You young rascal!" says he. "Think I'm no judge, eh? Here! Wait a moment. Now let's see. Um-m-m-m!" He's pullin' out first one desk drawer and then another. Finally he digs out a faded leather photograph case and opens it. "There!" he goes on. "That's Bonnie Sutton. What about her?" Course, her hair is done kind of odd and old-fashioned, piled up on top of her head that way, with a curl or two behind one ear; and I expect if much of her costume had showed it would have looked old-fashioned, too. But there wasn't much to show, for it's only a bust view and cut off about where the dress begins. Besides, she's leanin' forward on her elbows. A fairly plump party, I should judge, with substantial, well-rounded shoulders and kind of a big face. Something of a cut-up, too, I should say, for she holds her head a little on one side, her chin propped in the palm of the left hand, while between the fingers of the right she's holdin' a cigarette. What struck me most, though, was the folksy look in them wide-open eyes of hers. If it hadn't been for that I might have sized her up for a lady vamp. "Good deal of a stunner, I should say, Mr. Ellins," says I; "and no half portion, at that." "Of queenly stature, as the society reporters used to put it," says Old Hickory. "She had her court, too, even if some of the sessions were rather lively ones." At that he trails off into what passes with him as a chuckle and I waits pat
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