Cabby waited at the curb.
Suddenly I became conscious that I was holding something in my hand. It
was the benevolent old gentleman's stovepipe hat!
I pushed the button: pushed it good and hard. Presently I heard a window
open cautiously.
"What is it?" asked a querulous voice.
"Mr. Chittenden?"
"Yes."
"Well, here's your hat!" I cried.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
A Table of Contents has been added.