CHAPTER XIII
SIFTING OUT UNCLE BILL
Things happen to you quick, don't they, when the happenin' is good? Take this affair of Zenobia's. One day I'm settled down all comfy and solid with two old near-aunts who'd been livin' in the same place and doin' the same things for the last thirty years or so, and the next—well, off one of 'em goes, elopes with an old-time beau of hers that happens to show up here just because Europe is bein' shot up.
And then, before I've recovered from that jolt, comes this human surprise package labeled Dorsett, who blows breezy into the Corrugated. Fair-haired Vincent, who still holds my old place on the brass gate, brings in his card.
"William H. Dorsett?" says I. "Never heard of the party. Did he ask for Mutual Funding?"
"No, Sir," says Vincent. "He asked for you, Sir."
"How?" says I.
At which Vincent tints up embarrassed. "He said he wished to talk to a young fellow known as Torchy, Sir," says he.