Detective-man," said the woman, as he paused.
"What do you get out of it?"
Average Jones cast an affectionate glance at the sprawling legend
which disfigured his floor.
"A unique curio in my own special line," he replied. "An ad which
never has been published and never will be. That's enough for me."
There was a double knock at the door, and Mr. Algernon Spofford
burst in, wearing a face of gloom.
"Say, Average," he began, but broke off with a snort of amazement.
"You've found him!" cried. "Hello, Mr. Prentice. Well, Bailey,
alive and kicking, eh?"
"Yes; I've found him and them," replied Average Jones.
"You've done better than me, then. I've been through the post-office
department from the information window here to the postmaster-general
in Washington, and nobody'll help me find Mortimer Morley."
"Then let me introduce him; Algy, this is Mortimer Morley; in less
private life Mr. Tim Farley, and his wife, Mrs. Farley, Mr.
Spofford."
"Well, I'll be Billy-be-dashed," exploded Mr. Spofford.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283