“I can have it to read over, can’t I?” says I.  “That’ll help some.  Besides—­ Ah, come on, Vee!  Be a sport.  Didn’t you say you’d leave it to me?”

“But I can’t break my promise, Torchy,” says she.

“That’s right,” says I, “and I wouldn’t ask you to.  Let’s take the subway.”

I won; and when I put her in a taxi an hour later she was still blushin’ from answerin’ questions.  I had that paper with the city seal on it in my inside pocket, though.  My next job is on the Reverend Percey, the one who did the job for Mr. Robert the time I stage-managed his impromptu knot-tyin’.  Course, I couldn’t sign him up for anything definite, but I got a schedule of his spare time from six o’clock on, and where he would be.

“But I—­I don’t quite understand,” says he, starin’ puzzled through his glasses.  “You say you are uncertain whether my services will be—­”

“Now listen, Percey,” says I.  “I’m the most uncertain party at the present writing that you ever saw.  But if I should ’phone, I want you to answer the call like a deputy chief goin’ to a third alarm.  Get that?  And I’m payin’ time and a half for every minute after dark.  See?”

Maybe that wasn’t just the way to hire a reverend, but I was too rushed to think up the proper frills.  I had to attend to a lot of little things, among ’em bein’ this plant with Auntie’s cruisin’ friend, the widow.  She was in the habit, Mrs. Mumford was, of pickin’ Auntie up now and then for an evenin’ drive in her limousine; and what I was tryin’ to suggest was that this would be a swell night for it.

“But I don’t see how I can,” says she, cooin’ as usual.  “Mrs. Hemmingway is to be a guest at a going-away dinner, and may not be home until late.”

“Eh?” says I.  “Why, that’s fine—­I mean, for Auntie.  Ripping, eh, what?  Much obliged.”

The foxy old girl.  She’d never mentioned it.  And if I hadn’t found out just as I—­ But I did.  It simplifies things a lot.  That is, it would unless—­ Here I grabs the ’phone again and calls up Vee.

“Auntie’s going out to dinner to-night,” says I.

“Yes, I know,” says Vee.  “She has just told me.  I am not included.”

“Then whisper,” says I.  “Revise that wardrobe trunk of yours like you expected a cold winter in Jamaica.  Have a bag ready, too, and a traveling dress handy.”

“But why, Torchy?” she insists.

“Leave it to me,” says I.  “We’ll be up about 8:30.”

“We?” she asks.

“Now be good,” says I, “and you may be happy.  Also get busy.”

You see, I figured that what she didn’t know she couldn’t worry about, nor discuss with Auntie.  Besides, it was all too hazy in my head for me to sketch it out very clear to anyone.

Honest, I don’t see now how I kept from gettin’ things bugged, for I sure was crashin’ ahead reckless.  I felt like I’d been monkeyin’ with a flyin’ machine until I’d got it started and had been caught somewhere in the riggin’ with nobody at the wheel.  But I was glad of it.