Torchy, Private Sec. | Page 3

you drawin' it
a little strong? Say, where's the harm in me takin' Verona out for a
half-hour walk along the Drive? We ain't had a chat for over two
months, you know, not a word, and I'd kind of like to----"
"No doubt," says Aunty. "Are you quite certain, however, that Verona
would like it too?"
"I'm always guessin' where Vee is concerned," I admits; "but by the
latest dope I had on the subject, I expect she wouldn't object
strenuous."
Aunty sniffs. "It is quite possible," says she. "Verona is a whimsical,
wilful girl at times, just as her poor mother was. Keeping up this
pretense of friendship for you is one of her silly notions."
"Thanks awfully, Ma'am," says I.
"Let me see," goes on Aunty, squintin' foxy at me, "you are employed
in Mr. Ellins's office, I believe?"
I nods.
"As office boy, still?" says she.

"No, as a live one," says I. "Anybody that stays still very long at the
Corrugated gets canned."
"Please omit meaningless jargon," says Aunty. "Does my niece know
just how humble a position you occupy? Have you ever told her?"
"Why," says I, "I don't know as I've ever gone into details."
"Ah-h-h!" says she. "I was certain that Verona did not fully realize.
Perhaps it would be as well that she----" and here she breaks off sudden,
like she'd been struck with a new idea. For a second or so she gazes
blank over the top of my head, and then she comes to with a brisk,
"That will do, young man! Verona is not at home. You need not trouble
to call again. The maid will show you out. Celeste!"
And the next thing I knew I was ridin' down again with Cephas. I'm
some shunter myself; but I dip the colors to Aunty: she does it so neat
and sudden! It must be like the sensation of havin' a flight of trick stairs
fold up under you,--one minute you're most to the top, the next you're
pickin' yourself up at the bottom.
What worries me most, though, is this hint she drops about Vee. Looks
like the old girl had something up her sleeve; but what it is I can't dope
out. So all I can do is keep my eyes open and my ear stretched for the
next few days, watchin' for something to happen.
Course, I had one or two other things on my mind meanwhile; for down
at the gen'ral offices we wa'n't indulgin' in any spring-fever
symptoms,--not with three big deals under way, all this income mess of
deductin' at the source goin' on, and Mr. Robert's grand scheme for
dissolvin' the Corrugated--on paper--bein' worked out. Oh, sure, that's
the easiest thing we do. We've split up into nineteen sep'rate and
distinct corporations, with a diff'rent set of directors for each one, and if
the Attorney General can sleuth out where they're tied together he's got
to do some high-class snoopin' around.
Maybe you think too, that little Sunny Haired Hank, guardin' the brass
gate, ain't wise to every move. Say, I make that part of my job. If I

didn't, I'd be towin' a grouchy bunch of minority kickers in where the
reorganization board was cookin' up a new stock-transfer game, or
make some other fool break that would spill the beans all over the
pantry floor.
"Torchy," says Mr. Robert, chewin' his cigar nervous and pawin'
through pigeonholes, "ask Mr. Piddie what was done with those
Mesaba contracts."
"Filed under Associated Developments," says I.
"Oh, yes, so they were," says he. "Thanks. And could you find out for
me when we organized General Transportation?"
"Wa'n't that pulled off the day you waited for that Duluth delegation to
show up, just after Easter?" says I.
"That's it," says he, "the fifteenth! Has Marling of Chicago been called
up yet?"
"Nope," says I. "He'll be waitin' for the closing quotations, won't he?
But there's that four-eyed guy with the whiskers who's been hangin'
around a couple of hours."
"Ah!" says Mr. Robert, huntin' out a card on his desk. "That Rowley
person! I'd forgotten. What does he want?"
"Didn't say," says I. "Got a roll of something under one arm--crank
promoter, maybe. Will I ditch him?"
"Not without being heard," says Mr. Robert. "I haven't time myself,
though. Perhaps Mr. Piddie might interview him and----"
"Ah, Piddie!" says I. "He'd take one look at the old gink's round cuffs
and turn him down haughty. You know Piddie?"
Mr. Robert smiles. "Then suppose you do it," says he. "Go ahead--full
powers. Only remember this: My policy is to give everyone who has a
proposition to submit to the Corrugated a respectful and adequate

hearing. Get the idea?"
"I'm right behind you," says I. "The smooth stuff goes;