careful directions, Peter also engineered a little entertainment at which the talkative maid of the faithless Mrs. Jackson Young was the guest of honor. As for myself—well, the lady and gentleman were a bit reckless over the phone about their illegal affair of the heart. I had a cinch, really. All I had to do, was listen!
When matters were all set, I phoned Tommy Brown to simply hurl himself up to the St. Moe and gave him a slight inkling of why speed was necessary. Honestly, he arrived as if he'd been shot from a cannon!
"Well, what d'ye know?" he asks, breathlessly.
"A library full!" I whispered, "Manning and Jackson Young's wife are going to elope!"
"Leaping Tuna!" pants Thomas, "How did you"
"Shut up!" I hissed, "Time fugits! Manning's yacht is laid up and they're sailing for South America today on one of the little known steamship lines—Jerry Murphy will go with you and show you the pier. They're booked as 'Mr. and Mrs. Shields'. Now grab a taxi and do your worst!"
"I took a chance and brought a staff photographer along like you told me to" says Tommy, fairly foaming at the mouth with delight, "But I didn't tip them a thing at the office—I want to knock 'em dead with amazement. Creeping Mackerel! This will goal 'em!
