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