off for you. Mister Morin was all right. I’m going out to get my ears trimmed.”
He dragged Dumars by the arm into the outer room. Madame was screaming for Nicolette and Mémé to come and observe the fortune returned to her by M’sieur Morin, that best of men, that saint in glory.
“Marsy,” said Robbins, “I’m going on a jamboree. For three days the esteemed Pic. will have to get along without my valuable services. I advise you to join me. Now, that green stuff you drink is no good. It stimulates thought. What we want to do is to forget to remember. I’ll introduce you to the only lady in this case that is guaranteed to produce the desired results. Her name is Belle of Kentucky, twelve-year-old Bourbon. In quarts. How does the idea strike you?”
“Allons!” said Dumars. “Cherchez la femme.”
