"Yes, and sent a note along, asking him how he liked town rats. My, they were a tough pair of youngsters, about as dirty as you’ll find anywhere. ’Sloppy’ Sue’s kids, you know."
"Ho, ho, that’s a good one," Whittles roared. "Have you heard from Abner since?"
"Sure. He did me a great favor this morning, and that’s why I’m so friendly to him now."
"Walked into the office of _The Live Wire_, and smashed up Joe Preston so badly that he’s in the hospital now getting patched up."
Whittles’ eyes fairly started out of his head at this astounding piece of news, and he dropped his cards upon the table.
"What was it all about?" he at length found voice to ask.
"Oh, merely over that article in the paper about Mrs. Andrews running away with Ikey Dimock’s chauffeur. I got the news from the police station late last night, and phoned it to the _Wire_. I knew that Joe would make the most of it, and get something in return. I’m mighty glad he did, for he’s been very bumptious of late, and has rapped me pretty hard. Abner’s saved me a nasty job."
"Yes, and Abner’s in jail, repenting, no doubt."
"Repenting? Not a bit of it. He’s raging like a caged lion, if I’m not mistaken. My, how I’d like to have seen him at Joe. I’ve had no love for that fellow since he wrote that nasty skit about me last year. Did he put up much of a fight?"
"He tried to, so I heard, but he hadn’t the ghost of a chance against that farmer giant. He came into the office, stuck a copy of the _Wire_ before Joe’s nose, and asked him if he had written that article about his wife. Joe got mad, blazed up, and consigned Abner to the hot place."
"Good Lord!" Whittles gasped. "Joe must have been crazy."
"If he wasn’t crazy then, he was a few minutes later. Tom, the office boy, said it was terrible. Abner gave a roar like thunder and sailed into Joe. When the police arrived there wasn’t much of Joe left, according to Tom. He was unconscious, and the office was badly damaged."
"Did the police have any trouble with Abner?" Whittles asked almost breathlessly.
"No, I guess not. He went like a lamb, though Tom said he had a wild look in his eyes."
Whittles suddenly gasped; his face turned deathly pale, and his hands trembled.
"What’s wrong, Hen?" the lawyer asked, noting his companion’s agitation. "I didn’t know you were subject to nervous trouble. This story has upset you a bit. You need a stimulant. Why in thunder doesn’t that express team show up!"