"What's your name?" I asked.
"Horatio Heely," he replied.
was becoming more enthused every minute. Looking at him, or trying to look at him, seated in a chair, convinced me of his enormous potentialities. The chair was brown leather and, at first glance, the only thing that indicated that it was occupied, was a slight indentation in the seat and back of the chair. Horatio blended in perfectly with the deep brown of the chair and his face, which stuck up six or eight inches, was invisible against the grayness of the wall.
"Maybe you could get me into the Coast Guard," he said.
I frowned. "I hardly think so," I said. "I know the Commander over there but I don't think I could swing it. Now, remember, you're going to leave everything in my hands."
The door of my office opened then and a slim, stunning blonde walked in, followed by a tall, gaunt, sober individual with a gloomy face and deep black eyes. He wore a turban with an imitation jewel set in the center folds, squarely over his high forehead.
"Hah!" this character cried. "I suppose again you will tell me there is nothing for Mystiffio The Great, today."
"Ix-nay," I snapped. "Ut-shay up-yay!"