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 "Flats?" I came back at him. "Twins? Daisies? Double Daisies? Longhorns or square prints? And Chicago? Or Fond du Lac? New York or Philadelphia? Flats at Fond du Lac opened twenty-six and three quarters; twins"

Never had I uttered anything more soothing; he had nothing whatever to say. And I'll say this for him, he may have been stubborn and hard to convince, but once won over, he came all the way.

"Now exactly who are you?" I inquired, as he dropped the paper. "Private or government operative?"

He refrained from laying back his coat impressively to display a shining star. Apparently they do that only on the stage, or in the "sets" out in Los Angeles. Also he lacked the scintillating line of language I'd been led to expect by the Actors' Equity. Somehow, since actually playing about with Jerry's friends, I've lost my feeling for the crook drama.

"You may consider me government, if you prefer; and you may call me Dibley," "Iron Age" confided indulgently and with complete trust. Hereafter, when any one questions me, I'll remember the stupifying effect of cheese