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IT STINKS
reasoned, might make it all end happily in a trip to Tony's Bar.
The three silent members of the staff edged in. They were livening up. It was the first good fun they had experienced in some time. They had been permitted to talk concerning the bet, which they did frantically until the hall door opened uncannily, as in a mystery play, commanding the attention of every eye.
In a moment, Edgar revealed himself. Standing upon the threshold, he squinted accusingly at his staff, assuming the very dramatic attitude the Indian chief had used in his recent story — the scene where he stood with his arms folded, demanding white squaw.
The staff gave Edgar his dramatic moment, which they knew he desired, all but Horatio, who impudently lit a cigarette and blew the match out with the smoke.
When the pose and the silence had absorbed its theatrical value, Edgar slammed the door and strutted to the table, advising :
"Well, the boss is wild. Of course, he asked how the story was roundin' out, and naturally I had to lie like hell and say: 4 Just fine, Governor. ' I had to tell 'im that we could outline it 'most any time now. He's crazy to hear it. So let's get goin' an' save our necks. Hot-foot it and get somethin' started, finished if possible. One thing's sure : we gotta make a showin', I'm tellin' yuh!"
"Hey! Finish this first, Big Boy!"
Vehemently Horatio flung his check across the table, which slid, careened, and fell to the floor.
"Bet it's a bad check," Jay moaned. "It damned near made the cuspidor in one. Whata golfer! Whata golfer."
S7