"Ah, Lieutenant!" says Mr. Ellins, glancin' up from his desk. "Find anything up there?"
"Uh-huh," says I. "His name was Stukey. Another case of drawin' his pay from Berlin."
"Hah!" grunts Old Hickory, bitin' into his cigar. "The long arm again. But can't you recommend something?"
"Sure!" says I. "If we could find a pair of gold boots about eighteen buttons high, we ought to send 'em to Anna Sobowski."
CHAPTER XI
AT THE TURN WITH WILFRED
I expect Mr. Robert overstated the case a bit. He was more or less hectic back of the ears about then, havin' just broken away after a half-hour session with Mrs. Stanton Bliss.
"That woman," says he, slumpin' into a chair and moppin' his brow, "has the mental equipment of a pet rabbit and the disposition of a setting hen. Good Lord! "