“I expect I’m released on this case, then?” says I, after waitin’ while Old Hickory chews his cigar savage for a couple of minutes.

“No,” he snaps out.  “You’ve succeeded in losing Captain Killam; now you’ll help find him again.  I’ll go with you this time.  Come.”

Seemed too simple for words at first, me and Mr. Ellins startin’ out to hunt New York for a batty stranger in a blue flannel shirt.  By degrees, though, I got the idea.  It’s the competition that has stirred him up.  Likely enough, he’d have turned Rupert and his scheme down cold if it hadn’t been for that.  But when Auntie crashes in, the case is entirely different; then he’s strong for it.  Settin’ that time-lock jaw of his and lightin’ a fresh perfecto, Old Hickory grabs his hat; and off we go, with me trailin’ along reluctant.  His first move is to hail a taxi.

“Just goin’ to cruise around town casual in the hopes of spottin’ him on the fly, eh?” I asks.

“Hardly,” says Mr. Ellins.  “I’m not going to stand in the middle of Broadway and whistle for him either, or throw out a hook and line and troll.  I think we will go first to Mrs. Hemmingway’s, if you will kindly give the driver the number.”

He can be more brutally polite than anyone I ever saw.  I wasn’t enjoyin’ that ride so much, and it’s a relief when we pulls up at the curb.  I offers to run in and see if Auntie is back yet, but he won’t have it.

“Just lead the way, that’s all,” says he.

“Oh, very well,” says I.

And when Helma, the maid, has used up all her hyphenated English in assurin’ us that “Meesus” is still out, I rubs it in by shruggin’ my shoulders and glancin’ knowin’ at him.

“Mees Verona, she coom,” suggests Helma.

“Good!” says I.  “I’d like a word with her, anyway.”

Having just finished her canter in the park, Vee is still in her riding togs; and, take it from me, that’s some snappy costume of hers.  Maybe she ain’t easy to look at, too, as she floats in with the pink in her cheeks and her eyes sparklin’.  Wish I could fit into a frock-coat like that, or wear such shiny little boots.  Even Old Hickory cheers up a bit at sight of her.

“Why, Torchy!” says she, holdin’ out her hand.  “And Mr. Ellins!”

“Morning calls right along for me, after this,” says I, sort of walkin’ around her.  “It’s worth while.”

“Old thing!” says she.  “Don’t be silly.  But what is the matter?”

I glances at Mr. Ellins.  “Shall I tell?” says I.

“As that seems to be your specialty,” says he, “perhaps you had better.”

“Yes, sir; thank you, sir,” says I, salutin’.

Then I turns to Vee.  “Seen Auntie this morning?” I asks.

“Why, no,” says Vee.  “I was up rather early, you know.”

“Not so early as she was,” says I.  “What do you think she’s done? 
Jumped in on that treasure hunt I was tellin’ you of.  She’s pinched
Rupert, and by now maybe they’re on their way South.”