“That is the only thing that worries me,” says he.  “No, he isn’t married, as yet; but he means to be.  And the lady—­well, she’s a widow, rather well off.  Nice sort of person, in a way.  A Mrs. Grenville Hawks.”

“Not the one that used to send you bunches of roses?” says I.

He stares at me, and then nods.

“It seems that Mr. Nivens had already picked her out—­before,” says he.  “Oh, there was really nothing between us.  I’d never been a marrying man, you know.  But Mrs. Hawks—­well, we were rather congenial.  She’s bright, not much of a highbrow, and not quite in the swim.  I suppose I might have—­ Oh, widows, you know.  Told me she didn’t intend to stay one.  And now Mr. Nivens has come to know her, in some way; through his cousin Mabel, I suppose.  Knows her quite well.  She telephones him here.  I—­I don’t like it.  It’s not playing square with her for him to—­ Well, you see what I mean.  She doesn’t know who he was.”

“Uh-huh,” says I.

“But I’m not sure just what I ought to do,” says he.

“If you’re callin’ on me for a hunch,” says I, “say so.”

“Why, yes,” says he.  “What is it?”

“What’s the matter,” says I, “with beating him to it?”

“Why—­er—­by Jove!” says Ham.  “I—­I wonder.”

He was still standin’ there, holdin’ the gasoline bottle and gazin’ down the basement steps, as I passed on.  Course, I was mostly joshin’ him.  Half an hour later and I’d forgot all about it.  Never gave him a thought again until this mornin’ I hears Mr. Robert explode over something he’s just read in the paper.

“I say, Torchy,” he sings out.  “You remember Ham Adams?  Well, what do you think he’s gone and done now?”

“Opened a correspondence school for valets?” says I.

“Married!” says Mr. Robert.  “A rich widow, too; a Mrs. Grenville Hawks.”

“Zippo!” says I.  “Then he’s passed the buck back on Nivens.”

“I—­er—­I beg pardon?” says Mr. Robert.

“You see,” says I, “Nivens kind of thought an option on her went with the place.  He had Ham all counted out.  But that spell of real work must have done Ham a lot of good—­must have qualified him to come back.  Believe me, too, he’ll never be the same again.”

“That, at least, is cheering,” says Mr. Robert.

CHAPTER V

WITH ELMER LEFT IN

All I can say is that it was a busy day at the Corrugated.  Course, I might go into details, just as I might put mustard in my coffee, or lock Piddie in the bond safe.  Neither of them performances would be quite so fruity as for me to give out particulars about this special directors’ meetin’ that was goin’ on.  Speakin’ by and large, though, when you clean up better’n thirty per cent. on a semi-annual, you got to do some dividend-jugglin’, ain’t you?  And with them quiz committees so thick, it’s apt to be ticklish work.