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 earth are you doing in New York in this beastly heat?" he asks him. "You look frightfully peaked, Kane. What you need is a change of scene, and I'm the little white-haired boy who can furnish it. I had to run down here on business, and my nice, cool, comfortable yacht is out in the breezy Hudson. Hop aboard with me and laugh at Mr. Humidity!"

"That's a good thought!" pipes up Ptomaine. "Let's check out of this slab and go with your boy friend, Kid."

"Get back in line, Stupid!" I says. "Did anybody ask you to board any nice, cool, comfortable yachts?"

"But I meant to ask," smiles Logan, which seems to get quite a kick out of Ptomaine. "I have a little place on an island about twenty miles off the coast of Massachusetts, and, Kane, at this time of the year, it's a veritable paradise! You'll find a lot of people there you know, or who know you, and every comfort known to civilized man. The fishing and bathing are excellent, we have an eighteen-hole golf links, first-class tennis and handball courts and a beautiful dancing casino, where several times a week professional entertainers procured from a Boston vaudeville agency help kill any hours that have a tendency to drag. What say?"

"I'll say it's the weasel's waistcoat!" hollers Ptomaine, without nobody askin' him. "Try and keep me away!"

Logan is full of enthusiasm, and Kid Roberts looks up with a longin' gleam in his tired eyes.

"It certainty sounds attractive, old man," he says.

"But, you see, I'm in training for a bout and—"