While yet he stood at the curb a limousine, doubtless theater-bound, washalted in the traffic crush before him. He saw a bobbed, dark head,bound by a pearl filet with an emerald drop, protrude; saw a pointing,bejeweled finger; heard clearly the drawled comment:
"More likely, some new food for the fat, dar-rling. Remind me to tellmother. She gained whole ounces on that last chaff she choked down. Thepoor dear is losing her pep--starving worse than any Chinese baby thatever----"
The heavy car was crawling on toward its next stop. But Pape was sparedany regrets in nearer diversion as he drifted along with the tide ofpavement passers. In slowing to keep off the heels of a couple ahead, heeaves-dropped a woman's demand of her escort:
"Now what, do you imagine, _is_ Why-Not Pape? I do detest mysteries,although I suppose they're the only way to get the public nowadays.Personally, I haven't any use for women that won't tell their ages, haveyou? I never read serial stories and simply can't stand those suppressedmen that some girls rave about. The reason you make a hit with me,Jimmie, is because you're so frank, so natural, so sort of puppy-like.Oh, don't bother getting sore! You know by this time that I----"
_What_ was Why-Not Pape, indeed? Soon as the analytical lady strayedfrom the vital subject to that of her ingenuous companion, the author ofthe latest Broadway riddle passed on, a breaker on the edge of thedown-sweeping tide of theater-goers, actor folk out of work andinevitable window shoppers. Of the several he overheard querying the newsign, none guessed--as none do in most real-life mysteries--that theywere jostling elbows with the quite palpable solution. His upward stareattracted a direct remark from a pavement companion.
"You'll read the answer in the newspapers soon. Nobody nor nothing isgoing to burn real money for long in that make-you-guess display."
Pape was startled. Would the press take him up--possibly in time piquethe public interest to such extent that he might need to blaze forth,within his rose-border, answers to the questions he had raised? If so,the coveted recognition might be considered won.
But he did not need to tell New York what or who he was, to congratulatehimself. None would have excuse hereafter to regard lightly anintroduction to Why-Not Pape. Even though inadvertently, already thecity was welcoming him.
His one regret anent the bought-and-paid-for greeting was that it didnot include the worthy Polkadot. He had considered a design of alight-pricked figure of himself mounted, the horse done in naturalcolors, only abandoning it when informed that black was not effective inEdison bulbs. At that, the bronc shied at a glare and down in his horseheart would not have liked such presentment had he seen and understood.
And the simpler conceit seemed to be attracting a sufficiency ofattention. As well it might--well it might! So Peter Pape assuredhimself, beaming back and up at it. The Mayor's Committee for theEntertainment of Distinguished Strangers couldn't have done better byhim. And any prima donna must have been pleased with that floral frame.
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