"Not on the outside," says I. "He looks like he'd pinched a minister's Monday suit somewhere. But it ain't the way he looks that's worryin' me; it's what he's liable to do any minute to put the show on the blink."
"That's so, Torchy," says he. "Can't we get him out of the way somehow?"
"It's a tough proposition," says I; "but if you'll put on a sub for me at the door, and give me leave to make any play that I happens to think of, I'll tackle it."
"Good!" says Mr. Robert. "And I'll make it worth a hundred to you to keep him away from here until it's all over."
"I'm on the job," says I.
As I skips back I grabs my hat out from under a rear seat and makes straight for Brother Bill. "Come on," says I. "She's waitin' for you now. We've got just half an hour to do it in."
Bill, he looks sort of jarred and reluctant; but I has him by the arm and is chasin' him down the steps before he can ask any dippy questions. First off I thought of runnin' him up the avenue until he's clean winded; but I see by the way he strikes out that it would take more lungs than I've got to do that.
There was a lot of weddin' cabs and such waitin' round the corner, though; so I steers him into the first one that has the apron up, jumps in after him, shoves up the door in the roof, and sings out:
"Beat it! This ain't any dream carnival you're hired for!"
"What number?" says the bone thumper.