hy don't you tackle him, then," says I, "instead of botherin' a busy
man like me? Go back and call him out."

"I haven't the face," says he. "Look at me!"

"I have," says I, "and, if you ask me, you look like something the cat
brought in."

He winces a little at that. "Don't tell Bob how bad it was, then,"
says he. "Just say you let me have a fiver for him."

"Five bucks!" says I. "Say, I'm Mr. Robert's office boy, not his bank
account."

"Two, then?" he goes on.

"My, but I must have the boob mark on me plain!" says I.

"Couldn't you spare a half," he urges, "just a half, to get me a little
something to eat, and a drink, and pay for a bed?"

"Oh, sure!" says I. "I carry a pocketful of halves to shove out to all
the bums that presents their business cards."

"But Bob would give it back to you," he pleads. "I swear he would!
Just tell him you gave it to--to----"

"Well?" says I. "Algernon who?"

"Tell him it was for Melville Slater," says he. "He'll know."

"Melly Slater, eh?" says I. "Sounds all aright. But I'd have to chew
it over first, even for a half. I have chances of gettin' stung like
this about four times a day, Melly. And, anyway, I got to file a
message first, over at the next corner."

"I'll wait outside," says he.

"That's nice of you," says I. "It ain't any cinch you'll connect,
though."

But as I dashes into a hotel where there's a blue sign out he leans up
against a window gratin', sort of limp and exhausted, and it looks like
he means to take a sportin' chance.

How you goin' to tell, anyway? Most of 'em say they've been thrown out
of work by the trusts, but that they've heard of a job in Newark, or
Bridgeport, or somewhere, which they could get if they could only
rustle enough coin to pay the fare. And they'll add interestin'
details about havin' a sick wife, or maybe four hungry kids, and so on.

But this rusty bunch of works has a new variation. He's an old friend
of the boss. Maybe it was partly so too. If it was--well, I got to
thinkin' that over while the operator was countin' the words, and so
the next thing I does is to walk over to the telephone queen and have
her call up Mr. Robert.

"Well?" says he, impatient.

"It's Torchy again," says I. "I've filed the message, all right. But,
say, there's a piece of human junk that I collected from in front of
the club who's tryin' to panhandle me for a half on the strength of
bein' an old chum of yours. He sa