Honey's sweet, and so are you!
And so is he, who sends you this,
And when we meet we'll have a kiss.
I don't know who sent me this, but I suspected an office boy in a neighboring department.
My third note came just about an hour before leaving. It was from Hermann, and in a sealed envelop. It was as follows:
How about "Buffalo Bill" to-night?
O'Brien leaned over me as I opened the note, deliberately took it from me, and read it. As he did so, Hermann stealthily pelted him with tightly chewed wads of paper, though, from his hunched-over position at his desk, no one would have suspected who was throwing those pellets. I saw him, however, and he winked at me as if I were in a conspiracy with him, and as much as to say:
"We'll fix him."
O'Brien, his cigar moving from one side of his mouth to the other, answered the note for me.
"Nothing doing," was his laconic response to Hermann's invitation, and he despatched it by Red Top. He let me out with the five-thirty girls instead of the six, and he said: