Do you know a prac-
tical joker? Hate him?
Here's a good way
to get even.
LAST
LAUGHTER
By ROBERT CHASE
THE instant their hands met, there was a sudden loud staccato buzz, and the thin, nervous-looking man jerked his hand back as if it had been bitten. He stepped back, rubbing his palm, and glared at the other man angrily. "Same old Larry," he murmured.
Larry, who was a heavy set man with curly black hair, laughed loudly and clapped the other on the shoulder. "You fell for it, kid!" he said, showing the spring-operated buzzer in his hand. "Still the same old Jim Sadler! Remember the time in school when I sent the principal that note, and I forged your handwriting? Oh God," he said, laughing. "Remember that?"
"Yes. I was nearly expelled for that."
"That's right! By God, that's right! I'd nearly forgotten that." He eyed Sadler appreciatively, enjoying their reminiscence. "Say, what are you doing in town?"
"I've been transferred," Sadler said. "I'm with the Consolidated Bank, you know, and the manager here—Phil Evans—is due to retire next year. I guess this is my break," he grinned. "In the meantime, I'll be in the accounting department."
"Well, how about that?" Larry said, looking the other man up and down. "Come to stay, huh? I'll have to get the welcoming committee out. Show you a good time. Well, you can count on me." He winked, and patted the pocket which held his hand buzzer. "This may be a dead-looking
