egins, "I think----"

"But it ain't," says I. "No heart complications at all. This ain't even
a matter of a missin' relative, a lost wrist watch, or gettin' advice on
buyin' oil stocks. It's a case of a cook with a wilful disposition. Get
me? I want her to hear the right kind of dope from the spirit world."

"Ah!" says she, her eyes brightenin'. "I think I follow you, child of
the sun. Rather a clever idea, too. Your cook, is she?"

"No such luck," says I. "The boss's, or I wouldn't be so free with the
expense money. And listen, Madame; there's another ten in it if the
spirits do their job well."

"Grateful words, my son," says she. "But these high-class servants are
hard to handle these days. They are no longer content to see the cards
laid out and hear their past and future read. Even a simple trance
sitting doesn't satisfy. They must hear bells rung, see ghostly hands
waved, and some of them demand a materialized control. But they are so
few! And my faithful Al Nekkir has left me."

"Eh?" says I, gawpin'.

"One of the best side-kicks I ever worked with, Al Nekkir," says Madame
Zenobia, sighin'. "He always slid out from behind the draperies at just
the right time, and he had the patter down fine. But how could I keep a
real artist like that with a movie firm offering him five times the
money? I hear those whiskers of his screen lovely. Ah, such whiskers!
Any cook, no matter how high born, would fall for a prophet's beard like
that. And where can I find another?"

Well, I couldn't say. Whiskers are scarce in New York. And it seems
Madame Zenobia wouldn't feel sure of tacklin' an A1 cook unless she had
an assistant with luxurious face lamberquins. She might try to put it
over alone, but she couldn't guarantee anything. Yes, she'd keep the
snapshot of Stella, and remember what I said about the brother in
Altoona. Also it might be that she could find a substitute for Al Nekkir
between now and Thursday afternoon. But there wasn't much chance. I had
to let it ride at that.

So Monday was crossed off, Tuesday slipped past into eternity with
nothing much done, and half of Wednesday had gone the same way. Mr.
Robert was gettin' anxious. He reports that Stella has set Saturday as
her last day with them and that she's begun packin' her trunk. What was
I doing about it?

"If you need more time off," says he, "take it."

"I always need some time off," says I, grabbin my hat.

Anyway, it was too fine an afternoon to mi