“But this Skinski proposition,” Bunch groaned; “isn’t that taking a long chance?  Clara J. was always bitterly opposed to you having anything to do with a theatrical venture—­what will she say?”

“Peaches needn’t be in on this at all,” I said.  “We’ll simply put up a thousand each for the expense money, start Petroskinski, and after the opening night began to gather in the mazooboes.  When we get all the money we need, we’ll sell our interest and bow out.  It’s a pipe, Bunch.  I tell you, this Skinski has them all faded to a whisper.  He has a bunch of new illusions that will simply make the jay audiences sit up and throw money at us.  And as for sleight-of-hand and card tricks, well, say!  Skinski can throw a new pack of cards up in the air and bite his initials on the queen of diamonds before it hits the floor.  He’s a marvel.”

“Where did you find him?” Bunch inquired.

“At a club smoker,” I answered.  “He was the hit of the evening.  He pulled a few snake tricks down there and in five minutes he had all the members of the Highball Association climbing the water wagon.  That was the same evening I took Clara J. to the St. Regis to dinner.  Did I ever tell you about it, Bunch?  Well, say, it may help you to forget your troubles.  It’s a swell joint, all right, O.K., is the St. Regis, but hereafter me for the beanery thing with the high stool and the low prices.

“In the St. Regis the faces of the clerks and the clocks gave token that much money changed hands while it was building.

“In the lobby the furniture was covered with men about town, who sat around with a checkbook in each hand and made faces at the cash registers.

“There are more bellboys than bedrooms in the hotel.  They use them for change.  Every time you give the cashier $15 he hands you back $1.50 and six bellboys.

“We took a peep at the diamond-backed dining-room and when I saw the waiters refusing everything but certified checks in the way of a tip, I said to Peaches, ‘This is no place for us!’ But she wouldn’t let go, and we filed in to the appetite killery.

“A very polite lieutenant-waiter, with a sergeant-waiter and two corporal-waiters, greeted us and we gave the countersign, ’Abandon wealth, all ye who enter here.’

“Then the lieutenant-waiter and his army corps deployed by columns of four and escorted us to the most expensive looking trough I ever saw in a dining-room.

“‘Peaches,’ I said to my wife, ’I’m doing this to please you, but after I pay the check, it’s me to file a petition in bankruptcy.’

“But she only grinned, picked up the point-lace napkin and began to admire the onyx furniture.

“‘Que souhaitez vous?’ said the waiter, bowing so low that I could feel a chill running through my little bank account.

“‘I guess he means you,’ I whispered to Peaches, but she looked very solemnly at the menu card and began to bite her lips.