Nickel Plate, the polished Villain, sat in his office in the North South corner of the first straight turning to the left of the Castle in Plotville.
"Gadzooks," exclaimed he with a heavy frown, "likewise Pish Tush! Methinks I grow rusty—it is indeed a sad world when a real villain is reduced to chewing his moustache and biting his lips instead of feasting on the fat of the land."
So saying he rose from his chair, smote himself heavily on the chest, carefully twirled his long black moustache and paced dejectedly up and down and across the room.
"I wonder," he began, when ting-a-ling-a-ling the telephone rang.
"Hello," said he. "Yes, this is Nickel Plate— Oh! good morning, Mr. Bogie Man—Sh-h-h—Don't speak so loudly. Some one may see you.—No—Bumbus has not returned with Honey Girl—I'm sorry, sir, but I expect him every minute. I'll let you know as soon as I can. Oh! yes, he is to substitute Glucose for Honey Girl and return here for further villainous orders. Oh! a—excuse me, but can you help me with a little loan of—hello—hello—pshaw he's rung off. Central—ting-a-ling-a-ling—Central, won't you give me Bogie Man again, please—what! he's left orders not to connect us again—well!—good-bye."
"Now then what am I to do? I have just one nickel to my name and I can't spend that. If Bumbus has failed I don't know what we shall do. A fine state of affairs for a man with an ossified conscience and a good digestion—ha-a-a, what is that?"
"Buzz-z-z," came a sound through the open window.
"Is that Bumbus?" called Nickel Plate in a loud whisper.
"I be," answered Bumbus, climbing over the sill and darting to a chair.