wasting our time on a tin-horn preacher without ten bucks in the bank! We were after William Dollinger Styles. But he isn't a boob, like you; he turned me down when I went to lunch with him and tried to date him up. So, as we'd paid for this plant, we thought we might as well get our expenses and a little piece of change out of you, you short-weight, and by God we will! Now get out of here! I'm sick of hearing your blatting! No, I don't think you better hit me. Oscar'll be waiting outside the door. Sorry I won't be able to be at the church tomorrow—don't worry about my things or my salary—I got 'em this afternoon!"
At midnight, his mouth hanging open, Elmer was ringing at the house of T. J. Rigg. He rang and rang, desperately. No answer. He stood outside then and bawled "T. J.! T. J.!"
An upper window was opened, and an irritated voice, thick with sleepiness, protested, "Whadda yuh want!"
"Come down quick! It's me—Elmer Gantry. I need you, bad!"
"All right. Be right down."
A grotesque little figure in an old-fashioned nightshirt, puffing at a cigar, Rigg admitted him and led him to the library.
"T. J., they've got me!"
"Yuh? The bootleggers?"
"No. Hettie. You know my secretary?"
"Oh. Yuh. I see. Been pretty friendly with her?"
Elmer told everything.
"All right," said Rigg. "I'll be there at twelve to meet Oscar with you. We'll stall for time, and I'll do something. Don't worry, Elmer. And look here. Elmer, don't you think that even a preacher ought to try to go straight?"
"I've learned my lesson, T. J.! I swear this is the last time I'll ever step out, even look at a girl. God, you've been a good friend to me, old man!"
"Well, I like anything I'm connected with to go straight. Pure egotism. You better have a drink. You need it!"
"No! I'm going to hold onto that vow, anyway! I guess it's all I've got. Oh, my God! And just this evening I
