Now, look. A freckle-faced parlor pirate with no more credentials than a park pan-handler blows in from nowhere particular, and tells a wild yarn about buried treasure on the west cost of Florida. First off he gets Old Hickory Ellins, president of the Corrugated Trust and generally a cagey old boy, more or less worked up. Mr. Ellins turns him over to me, with orders to watch him close while he's investigatin'

the tale. Then, when I'm gabbin' free and careless about it to Vee, her Auntie sits there with her ear stretched. She wants to know what hotel I've left the Captain at. And the next mornin' he's gone. Also on other counts the arrow points to Auntie.

There I was, too, on my way back to Old Hickory, figurin' whether I'd better resign first and report afterwards, or just take my chances that maybe after he'd slept on it he wouldn't be so keen about seein' this Captain Killam again. Then the whole thing hit me on the funnybone.

Haw-haw! Auntie, the sober old girl with the mixed-pickle disposition, suddenly comin' to life and pinchin' Old Hickory's find while he's tryin' to make up his mind whether it's phony or not. Auntie, of all people! More hearty haw-haws.

When I finally does drift into Old Hickory's private office and he motions me to shut the door, I'm still registerin' merry thoughts.

"Well?" says he, snappin' it out crisp.

"You'd never guess," says I, smotherin' a chuckle.

"Eh?" says he, shootin' a puzzled glance at me from under them overhangin' eyebrows of his. "Who wants to guess? What about Captain Killam?"

"That's just it," says I. "He's flitted."

"Wha-a-at!" snorts Old Hickory. "You don't mean he has gone?"

"Uh-huh!" says I. "Been lured away. But say,"--here I indulges in my most comic open-face movement,--"who do you suppose did the trick on us?"

Old Hickory stares at me and waves his cigar impatient. "Go on," he growls.

"You know Miss Vee's aunt," says I, "Mrs. Cornelia Hemmingway? Well, she's got him. Yep! Just naturally kidnapped him, I expect. I had my suspicions of her the minute I found the Captain was gone. So I chases right up there. She's out. The maid admits she went away with a party answerin' Killam's description. I wouldn't have been sure, though, if I hadn't found a map of Florida on the lib'ry table and Nunca Secos Key marked on it. Now, what do you know about that? Auntie! Ain't that rich?"

No hilarity from Old Hickory--not even one of them cracked concrete smiles of his. He just sits there glarin' at me, missin' the comedy cue altogether.

"Young man," says he, "just a moment before we get any further off the track. How did Mrs. Hemmingway happen to learn about Captain Killam?"

"Why," says I, "she had her ear out while, I was tellin' Miss Vee.

Would you believe, though, that an old girl like her--"

"I would," says he. "Humorous as it may seem to you, I should credit almost anyone with wanting to dig up several million dollars, if they could find where it was hidden."

"But--" I begins.

"Besides Miss Verona and her aunt," goes on Old Hickory, "how many others have you made acquainted with what I was doing my best to keep a secret?"

"Not a soul," says I. "Honest!"

"Temporary paralysis of the tongue, eh?" he asks. "It's a wonder you didn't have it published in the morning papers. Quite thoughtless of you. Hah!"

And say; next time I think I have a joke for Old Hickory I'll go down to Thirty-third Street and try it first on the statue of Horace Greeley. If he rocks back and forth in his bronze chair and lifts the roof off the L station above, I'll know it may do to pa.s.s on to Mr.

Ellins. Yep! That's just the way I feel about it.

"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 compet.i.tion 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 a.s.surin' 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."

Vee stares at me for a second, and then gives one of them ripply laughs.

"How crazy of you to think such a thing!" says she.

"Here's the evidence in the case," says I, pointin' to the map with the scribblin' on the side. "That's her writin', ain't it? And you remember her wakin' up and askin' questions, don't you?"

"Ye-e-es," admits Vee; "but I'm sure she hasn't--"

"She and the Captain are missing," says I. "That's what comes of my gettin' chatty about business affairs. I didn't dream, though, that Auntie was such a plunger."

"I can't believe it," says Vee. "There's been some ridiculous mistake.

But I can't imagine where she could have gone so early."