“Well, sir, the way I work this wonderful appliance is this:  The air-pump is concealed in the small of my back, under my coat.  A pipe connects it with the receiver in my hat, and there is a kind of crank running down my right trouser leg and fastened to my boot, so that the mere act of walking pumps the air into the receiver.  But how do I effect the cooling process?  Listen:  Another pipe comes from the receiver and empties into a kind of a sheet-iron undershirt, perforated with holes, which I wear beneath my outside shirt—­”

“If you’d wear something over that shirt, so as to hide the dirt, you’d be more agreeable.”

“Now, s’posin’ it’s a warm day.  I’m going along the street with the air-crank in operation.  The receiver is full.  I want to cool off.  I pull the string which runs down my left sleeve; the air rushes from the receiver, suddenly expands about my body, and makes me feel so cold that I wish I had brought my overcoat with me.”

“I wish to gracious you’d go home and get it now.”

“You see, then, that this invention is of the utmost value and importance, and my idea in calling upon you was to give you a chance to mention and describe it in your paper, so that the public might know about it.  You are the only editor I have revealed the secret to.  I thought I’d give you the first chance to become a benefactor of your race.”

“I’m the kind of benefactor that charges one dollar a line for such philanthropy.”

“To assure yourself that the machine is perfect you must try it for yourself.  Just stand up and take your coat off.  Then I’ll put the hat on your head, screw the pump into the small of your back and fix the other machinery down your legs.”

“I’ll see you hanged first.”

“Well, then, I’ll put it on myself and illustrate the theory for you.  You see the rod here in my trousers?  This is the air-pump here, just above my suspender buttons.  The hat now contains about six atmospheres.  Now I am ready to move.  See?  You observe how it works?  The only noise you hear is a slight click of the valve in the pump.  A couple more turns, and you put your hand on my shirt-collar and feel how near zero it is.  I will get the pressure up to one hundred pounds before I——­”

BANG!!!

As soon as the major began to realize the situation he crawled out from beneath his overturned desk, wiped the contents of the inkstand from his face and hair with the copy of that unfinished article upon “The Necessity for Speedy Resumption,” and looked about him.  Mr. Partridge was lying in the corner with a splintered table over his legs, his head in a spittoon, and fragments of ruined machinery bursting out through enormous rents in his trousers and his coat.  His cast-iron undershirt protruded in jagged points from a dozen orifices in his waistcoat.  As the major took him by the leg to haul him out of the debris Partridge opened his eyes wearily and said,