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I'll beat them, and carry double at that!"
"How double, Mickey?" inquired Douglas.
"I didn't mean to say that," he explained. "That was a slip. There's a--
there's something----something I'm trying to do that costs more than it
does to live. I'm bound to do it, so I got to run light and keep my lamps
polished for chances. What next, sir?"
"Call 9-40-X, and order my car here," said Douglas.
He bent over his papers to hide his face when from an adjoining room
drifted Mickey's voice in clear enunciation and suave intonation: "Mr.
Douglas Bruce desires his car to be sent immediately to the Iroquois
Building."
His mental comment was: "The little scamp has drifted to street lingo when
he lacked his mother to restrain him. He can speak a fairly clean grade of
English now if he chooses."
"Next?" briskly inquired Mickey.
"Now look here," said Douglas. "This isn't a horse race. I earn my living
with my brains, not my heels. I must have time to think things out; when
your next job arrives I'll tell you.


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