“Of course not, Sir,” says Piddie; “but I’m sure Dr. Bingstetter could find out just how those flowers come here.  He’s an extremely brilliant man, Sir, and I’m quite positive he could——­”

“Well, well, send for him, then,” says Old Hickory.  “Only see that you keep still about it outside there, both of you.  I don’t care to have the whole office force chattering and snickering over this affair.  Understand?”

You bet we did; for when the boss gets real peevish about anything it’s not safe to get your signals mixed!  I stands guard on the ’phone booth while Piddie was sendin’ the message, and for once we plots away together real chummy.

“He’s coming right over this afternoon,” whispers Piddie, as he slides out of the booth.  “You’re to take him directly into Mr. Ellins’ office,—­a large, impressive looking man, you know, with a full round face and wearing eye-glasses.”

Piddie forgets to mention the shiny frock coat and the forty-four-inch waist line; but for all that I spots him the minute he hits the brass gate, which he does about ten minutes before closin’ time.

“Dr. Bingstetter?” says I cautious.

“I am he,” is the answer.

“S-s-s-s-sh!” says I, puttin’ a forefinger to my lips warnin’.

“S-s-s-s-sh!” echoes the Doc, tiptoein’ through the gate.

Then up comes Piddie, walkin’ on his toes too, and the three of us does a footpad sneak into Old Hickory’s office.  There wa’n’t any wild call for me to stay as I knows of; but as long as no one threw me out I thought I’d stick around.

I must say too the Doc looked and acted the part.  First off he sits there blinkin’ wise behind his glasses, and not a sign on his big, heavy face as he listens to all Piddie and Mr. Ellins can tell him about the case.  Also when he starts askin’ questions on his own hook he makes a noise like a mighty intellect changin’ gears.

“M-m-m-m!” says he, pursin’ up his lips and studyin’ the bouquet thoughtful.  “Six ox-eyed daisies, four sprays of goldenrod, and three marshmallow blooms,—­thirteen in all.  And this is the fourth bunch.  Now, the others, Mr. Ellins, they were not precisely like this one, were they?”

“Blessed if I know!” says Old Hickory.  “No, come to think of it, they were all different.”

“Ah, I thought so!” says the Doc, sort of suckin’ in his breath satisfied.  “Now, just what flowers did the first one contain, I should like to know.”

“Why, hang it all, man, I can’t remember!” says Old Hickory.  “I threw the things into the waste basket.”

“Ah, that was careless, very careless,” says the Doc.  “It would have helped.  One ought to cultivate, Mr. Ellins, the habit of accurately observing small details.  However, we shall see what can be done with this,” and once more he puckers his lips, furrows up his noble brow, and gazes steady at floral exhibit No. 4, turnin’ it round slow between his fat fingers and almost goin’ into a trance over it.