"Ha! Ha!" laughed the editor across the mangle.

"Well, then, I shall kill you," Martin said.
He went out into the wash-room to get the axe, and found Joe starching manuscripts.

He tried to make him desist, then swung the axe for him.
But the weapon remained poised in mid-air, for Martin found himself back in the ironing room in the midst of a snow-storm.

No, it was not snow that was falling, but checks of large denomination, the smallest not less than a thousand dollars.

He began to collect them and sort them out, in packages of a hundred, tying each package securely with twine.
He looked up from his task and saw Joe standing before him juggling flat- irons, starched shirts, and manuscripts.