“Call him up and tell him that I decline to be interviewed.”
“Sorry, but I must interview you. I’ve already interviewed by telephone old Casson, Miss Morrison, Mrs. Pippy, Julia, Sooey Wan and Graves. The crew of the Moorea I have seen personally. I’ve got a crackerjack story but I want a better one. Sooey Wan said he thought you’d marry the queen about a week from tomorrow.”
“That Chink is absolutely out of control.”
“You leave him alone. He’s a friend of mine. And you’ll be interviewed!” He puffed at his cigar and looked sorrowfully out over the roofs of the city. “Only one way to handle a newspaper man,” he ruminated. “Receive him, ignore him or kill him. Ah, to be rich and beloved by a queen—to dwell in marble halls, with vassals and serfs rendering snappy service!”
“Mel, don’t be an ass. Don’t insist upon injecting a romantic note into this story.”
“Sooey Wan says he’ll back her against the field at a hundred to one, and any time Sooey has a celestial hunch I’ll play it.”
“Mel, you shouldn’t discuss my private affairs with my servants——”
The knight of the pad and pencil waved him into silence. “Sooey Wan isn’t a servant, Dan. He’s an institution who accepts a hundred and fifty dollars a month from you just to please you and perpetuate the institution. Why shouldn’t the old idol discuss you with me? Haven’t I been dining at your house every Thursday night for ten years? Sooey Wan knows I think almost as much of you as he does. Come, I’m listening.”
In five minutes the tale was told.
“Her photograph,” Mellenger insisted.