"Our man has his spies out, and my every step is dogged both night and day." "Indeed ?" we asked.
"You know that slim little duck that got in last night, purtendin' he's a shoe-drummer?
Well, he's a detective hired by Potts to shadow me.

You know that big fat one, lettin' on he's agent for the Nonesuch Duplex Washin' Machine?
He's another.

You know that slick-lookin' cuss--like a minister--been here all week, makin' out he was canvassin' for 'The Scenic Wonders of Our Land' at a dollar a part, thirty-six parts and a portfoly to pack 'em away in?
Well, he's an--" "Hold on, Billy, let's get down to business," reminded Solon.
"But I've throwed 'em all off for the nonce," continued Billy, looking closely, I thought, to see if we were rightly affected by "nonce." "Yes, sir, it's been the toughest darned case in my whole experience as an inside man." He waited for this to move us.
"What have you found out ?" asked Solon; "and say, can't you take off those whiskers, now that we are alone and unobserved?
You know they kind of scramble your voice." With cautious looks all about him, Billy bared his tender young face to the night.

A weak wind fretted in the cedars back of us, and an owl hooted.

It was not an occasion that he would permit to glide by him too swiftly.
"Well, first I had to git my skeleton keys made." "I thought you said his door was never locked," interrupted Solon.
"That might be only a ruse," suggested our hero.