d got the wrong number.

"If--if you please, Sir," says he, bowin' elaborate and humble, "Mr.
Robert Ellins."

"Gwan!" says I. "You read that on the floor directory. You don't know
Mr. Robert."

"But--but if you please, Sir," he goes on, "I wish to speak with him."

"You do, eh?" says I. "Now, ain't that cute of you? Think you can
pick out any name on the board and drift in for a chat, do you? Come
now, what you peddlin'--dollar safety-razors, bullpups, or what?"

He ain't a real live wire, this heavy-faced, wide-shouldered,
squatty-built party with the bumper crop of curly black hair. He
blinks his big, full eyes kind of solemn, starin' at me puzzled, and
about as intelligent as a cow gazin' over a fence. An odd lookin' gink
he was, sort of a cross between a dressed up bartender on his day off
and a longshoreman havin' his picture taken.

"Excuse," says he, rousin' a little, "but--but it is not to peddle. I
would wish to speak with Mr. Robert Ellins."

"Well, then, you can't," says I, wavin' towards the door; "so beat it!"

This don't make any more impression than as if I'd tried to push him
over with one finger. "I would wish," he begins again, "to speak
with----"

"Say, that's all on the record," says I, "and the motion's been denied."

"But I----" he starts in once more, "I have----"

Just then Piddie comes turkeyin' over pompous and demands to know what
all the debate is about.

"Look what wants to see Mr. Robert!" says I.

"Impossible!" says Piddie, takin' one look. "Send him away at once!"

"Hear that?" says I to Curlylocks. "Not a chance! Fade, Spaghetti,
fade!"

The full force of that decision seems to penetrate his nut; for he
gulps hard once or twice, the muscles on his thick throat swells up
rigid, and next a big round tear leaks out of his off eye and trickles
down over his cheek. Maybe it don't look some absurd too, seein' signs
of such deep emotion on a face like that.

"Now, none of that, my man!" puts in Piddie, who's as chicken hearted
as he is peevish. "Torchy, you--you attend to him."

"What'll I do," says I, "call in a plumber to stop the leak?"

"Find out who he is and what he wants," says he, "and then pack him
off. I am very busy."

"Well," says I, turnin' to the thick guy, "what's the name?"

"Me?" says he. "I--I am Zandra Popokoulis."

"Help!" says I. "Popo--here, write it on the pad." But even when he's
done that I can't do more than make a wild stab