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 have everything right, now. I ’ll move in, this afternoon, and I expect they ’ll start to check me up right away. We don’t want any holes in our cover.”

“I ’ll attend to it.”

“And have the name painted on the door.”

A clerk had entered with a file of typewritten reports in a loose-leaf binder. Babbing had taken it while he was still talking to Archibald; and he turned over the pages, rapidly, as he talked. “That ’s right,” he said. “She ’s a Mrs. Josiah Andrews at number 125. Go ahead.”

Archibald went out softly, after the clerk; and Barney, having caught something that concerned the name of Cook in these preparations for a plant, waited on the edge of his chair in guilty suspense. Babbing continued to read.

“Well, Barney,” he said, still reading, “you ’d better get it off your mind, had n’t you?”

“What?”