She never does
chime in much with our talk. And I judged she was too busy with her
sweater-knittin' to hear a word. But here she is, askin' details.
"Why," says I, "Captain Killam calls it Nunca Secos Key."
"What an odd name!" says Auntie. "And you left him at some hotel, did
you? The--er--"
"Tillington," says I.
"Oh, yes," says Auntie, and resumes her knittin' placid.
Course, there I was, gassin' away merry about what Old Hickory wanted
kept a dead secret. But I usually do tell things to Vee. She ain't
one of the leaky kind. And Auntie don't go out much. Besides, who'd
think of an old girl like that ever bein' interested in such wild
back-number stuff? How foolish!
So I wasn't worryin' any that night, and at quarter of nine next
mornin' I shows up at the hotel to send up a call for Rupert.
"Captain Killam?" says the room clerk with the plastered front hair.
"Why, he left an hour or more ago."
"Yes, I know," says I; "but he was coming back."
"No," says the clerk; "he said he wasn't. Took his bag, too."
"Wha-a-at!" I gasps. "He--he ain't gone for good, has he?"
"So it seems," says the clerk, and steps back to continue his chat with
the snub-nosed young lady at the 'phone exchange.
How was that for an early mornin' bump? What was the idea, anyway?
Rupert had found a prospective backer, hadn't he? And was bein' taken
care of.
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