I'll be mighty glad
to have you, Wilbur, but you've got to understand I won't have Miss
Crown bothered while she's sick."
"Permit me to remind you, Uncle Charlie, that I am a gentleman.
I don't go butting in where I'm not wanted. My instructions from
the General Manager are very explicit. I am to see Miss Crown when
convenient, and give her all the dope on our gigantic enterprise,--that's
all."
"By the way,--er,--is that your automobile out there?"
"It's one I hired in the city."
"You--er--didn't happen to bring your wife with you, did you?
Because it would be darned awkward if you did. She'd have to sleep
with Angie Miller or Flora--"
"She's not with me, Uncle Charlie,--so don't worry. Of course,
if it isn't convenient for you to have me for a day or two, I can
motor in and out from the city. Money's no object, you know. I've
got a roll of expense money here that would choke a hippopotamus."
"Come on over to the Tavern, Wilbur. We'll see Miss Molly Dowd and
fix things up. Sam, if anybody asks for me, just say I'll be back
in fifteen minutes."
And that is how "Mortie" Gilfillan, one of the ablest operatives
in the Pinkerton service, made his entry into the village of
Windomville. Inasmuch as he comes to act in a strictly confidential
capacity, we will leave him to his own devices, content with the
simple statement that he remained two full days at Dowd's Tavern
as the guest of his "Uncle Charlie"; that he succeeded in obtaining
an interview with the rich Miss Crown, that he "talked" oil to
everybody with whom he came in contact, including Courtney Thane;
that he declined to consider the appeals of at least a score of
citizens to be "let in on the ground floor" owing to the company's
irrevocable decision to sell only in blocks of ten thousand shares
at five dollars per share; that he said good-bye to Mr.
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