On With Torchy
Wednesday.  That must mean something.  But why Wednesdays?  Now, what was there that happens on Wednesday that don't----

Say, you know how you'll get a fool hunch sometimes, that'll seem such a nutty proposition first off that you'll almost laugh at yourself for havin' it; and yet how it'll rattle around in your bean persistent, until you quit tryin' to get rid of it?  Well, this one of mine strikes me about as I'm snugglin' down into the hay that night, and there was no gettin' away from it for hours.

I expect I did tear off a few chunks of slumber between times; but I was wide awake long before my regular hour for rollin' out, and after makin' three or four stabs at a second nap I gives it up, slips down for an early breakfast, and before eight A.M. I'm down in the basement of the Corrugated Buildin' interviewin' the assistant superintendent in his little coop of an office.  I comes out whistlin' and lookin' wise.  And that night after I'd made a trip over to Long Island across the Queensboro Bridge I looks wiser still.  Nothin' to do until next Wednesday.

And when it comes it sure opens up like it's goin' to be a big day, all right!  At first Old Hickory announces that he ain't goin' to have any cops campin' around in the directors' room.  It was all blithering nonsense!  Hadn't he lived through all sorts of warnin's before?  And he'd be eternally blim-scuttled if he was goin' to get cold feet over a few faded flowers!

There was Piddie, though, with his say.  His idea is to have the reserves from two precincts scattered all over the shop, and he lugs around such a serious face and talks so panicky that at last the boss compromises on havin' two of the buildin' specials detailed for the job.  We smuggles 'em into the big room at eleven o'clock, and tells 'em to lay low until they gets the word.  Next comes Bingstetter, blinkin' mysterious, and has himself concealed behind a screen in the private office.  By that time Old Hickory is almost as nervous as anybody.

"Fine state of affairs, things are at now," he growls, "when a man isn't safe unless he has a bodyguard!  That's what comes of all this political agitation!"

"Have no fear," says the Doc; "you will not receive the fifth bouquet.  Boy, leave that door into the next room slightly ajar.  He will try to escape that way."

"Ajar she is," says I, proppin' it open with a 'phone directory.

"'Tis well," says the Doc.  "Now 
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