"
Neils Halvorsen shook his sorrel head. He had no ideas. B.
McGuffey, Esquire, shook his head also. Captain Scraggs wanted to
sing.
"I see it's up to me to suggest somethin'." Mr. Gibney smiled
benignly, as if a money-making idea was the easiest thing on
earth to produce. "The last thing I remember before we went to
that Turkish bath was us four visitin' a fortune teller an'
havin' our fortunes told, past, present, an' future, for a dollar
a throw. Anybody here remember what his fortune was?"
It appeared that no one remembered, not even Mr. Gibney. He
therefore continued:
"The chair will app'int Mr. McGuffey an' himself a committee o'
two to wait on one o' these here clairvoyants and have their
fortunes told agin."
McGuffey, who was as superstitious as a negro, seconded the
motion heartily and the committee forthwith sallied forth to
consult the clairvoyant. Within the hour they returned.
"Members o' the syndicate," the commodore announced, "we got an
idea. Not a heluva good one, but fair to middlin'. Me an' Mac
calls on this Madame de What-you-may-call-her an' the minute she
gets a lamp at my mit (it is worthy of remark here that Mr.
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