“Yes, yes!” says the boss.  “We’ll attend to that, old man.  But you need some nourishment in you first.”

So we drags him over to the opposite corner, where there’s a drugstore, and got a glass of hot milk under his vest.  Then I calls a taxi, and we all starts for the nearest Turkish bath joint.

“That’s all, Torchy,” says Mr. Robert.  “I won’t bother you any more with this wretched business.  You’d best go now.”

“Suppose something happens to him?” says I.  “You’ll need a witness, won’t you?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” says he.

“There’s no tellin’,” says I.  “Them coroners deputies are mostly boneheads.  I’d better stay on the job.”

“I know of no one I’d rather have, Torchy,” says he.

Course, he was stretchin’ it there.  But we fixes it up that while Bunny is bein’ soaked out I’ll have time to pluck some eats.  Meanwhile Mr. Robert will ’phone his man to dig out one of his old dress suits, with fixin’s, which I’m to collect and have waitin’ for Blashford.

“Better have him barbered some too, hadn’t I?” says I.

“A lot,” says Mr. Robert, slippin’ me a couple of tens for expenses.  “And when he’s all ready call me at the club.”

So, take it all around, I has quite some busy evenin’.  I stayed long enough to see Bunny wrapped in a sheet and helped into the steam-room, and then I hustles out for a late dinner.  It’s near nine-thirty before I rings Mr. Robert up again, and reports that Bunny would pass a Board of Health inspection now that he’s had the face herbage removed, that he’s costumed proper and correct, and that he’s decided not to die immediate.

“Very well,” says Mr. Robert.  “What does he want to do now?”

“He wants to talk to you,” says I.

“The deuce he does!” says Mr. Robert.  “Well, I suppose we might as well have it out; so bring him up here.”

That’s how it happens I’m rung in on this little club corner chat; for Mr. Robert explains that whatever passes between ’em it might be as well to have someone else hear.

And, say, what a diff’rence a little outside upholstery can make, eh?  The steamin’ out had helped some, I expect, and a couple more glasses of hot milk had braced him up too; but blamed if I’d expect just a shave and a few open-face clothes could change a human ruin into such a perky lookin’ gent as this that leans back graceful against the leather cushions and lights up one of Mr. Robert’s imported cigarettes.  Course, the eye hollows hadn’t been filled in, nor the face wrinkles ironed out; but somehow they only gives him a sort of a distinguished look.  And now that his shoulders ain’t slumped, and he’s holdin’ his chin up once more, he’s almost ornamental.  He don’t even seem embarrassed at meetin’ Mr. Robert again.  If anyone was fussed, it was the boss.

“Well?” says he, as we gets settled in the cozy corner.

“Seems natural as life here; eh, Bob?” says Bunny, glancin’ around approvin’.  “And it’s nearly four years since I—­er——­”