“Yes, but it’s useless for you to go after him, John; he’ll only hand you another javelin.”

“Well, the next time that dub throws the gaff into me I’ll know he has a reason for it.  Hereafter, every time he bats an eye in my direction it’s me for a swift get-back, I’ll tell you those!”

“You should bear the ills of the flesh with Christian fortitude,” grinned Bunch.

“Nix,” I said.  “I’m tired holding up something fat for a mutt like that to paddle with a slapstick!”

CHAPTER IV.

JOHN HENRY GETS A SHOCK.

A few minutes later we went into the general restaurant and found Signor Petroskinski waiting for us.

His right name was Jeff Mulligan, but Petroskinski sounded more foreign, and he fell for it.

I introduced Skinski to Bunch, and in five minutes all the business details were settled.

Skinski needed about $900 to pay for a couple of new illusions which were being built for him, and Bunch was appointed a committee to go down to Sixth Avenue and disburse the funds.

“I think we’ve got the real graft, don’t you, Skinski?” I said, after the luncheon had been ordered.

“It’s a pipe!” Skinski replied in pure United States, much to Bunch’s surprise.  From the name and the make-up I suppose Bunch expected Skinski to yelp in Bulgarian or throw out signals in Graeco-Roman.

Skinski was a warm member with the gab thing.

He got his start in life travelling with a medicine wagon in the West, and what he didn’t know about the show business wasn’t necessary.

“Say, people!” our star went on, “I’ve a couple of new card tricks up my sleeve that will leave the Reubens gasping for air.  And when I pull my new illusion, entitled, ‘Keno, or the Curious Cage,’ on the public it will be a case of counting easy coin.  Say! did I ever tell you about that gold mine I won in the West many moons ago?”

“Nix on the dream work, Skinski,” I cut in.  “We’ve put up our good money to start you, so let’s get down to the programme.”

“Oh! very well,” said Skinski; “but I was down to see my brokers to-day in Wall Street and there are doings.  I’ve got a plantation full of gold out near the Blue Hills, and——­”

“Please don’t smoke, there are ladies present!” admonished Bunch.

“Oh, very well!” said Skinski, and forthwith he launched into a description of his various tricks.

The waiter had just brought our luncheon when a large blondined shadow fell across the festive board, and Skinski jumped to his feet, followed by Bunch and yours surprisedly.

“Permit me!” Skinski said; “our new backers, Mr. Jefferson and Mr. John Henry! this is Mademoiselle Dodo, the Human Guessworks.  She’s my assistant in the mind-reading tests, and she’s all to the elegant.  Will you feed the face, Dodey?”

“You betcher sweet!” Dodo replied, as she splashed into the chair provided by the waiter, while I glanced at Bunch sideways and found him on the verge of a fainting fit.