aid no
attention whatever to Mr. Bates, that gentleman being quite beneath
his notice, but with vast importance he laid down in front of Mr.
Johnson the note which Bobby had given him.

"_Mr._ Johnson," he pompously directed, "you will please attend to
this little matter as soon as possible."

"Applerod," said Johnson, glancing at the note and looking up with
sudden fire, "does this mean that you are no longer even partially my
employer?"

"That's it exactly."

"Then you, Applerod, don't you dare call me _Mr._ Johnson again!" And
he shook a bony fist at his old-time work-fellow.

Biff Bates nearly fell off the desk, but with rare presence of mind
restrained his glee.

Mr. Applerod, smiling loftily, immediately wielded his bludgeon.

"We should not quarrel over trifles," he stated commiseratingly. "We
are once more companions in misfortune. There is no Applerod Addition.
It is a swamp again."

"What do you mean?" asked Johnson incredulously, but suspending his
indignation for the instant.

"This," said Applerod: "that the entire addition is a hundred-acre mud
puddle this morning. You couldn't sell a lot in it to a blind man.
Every cent that was invested in it is lost. The whole marsh was fed
from underground springs that have come up through it and overflowed
the place."

"Trimmer again," said Biff Bates, and slid off the desk; then he
looked at his watch with a curious speculative smile.

"But if it is all lost," protested Johnson, looking again at the note
and pausing in the making out of the check, "how do you come to get
this?"

"He owed it to me," asserted Applerod. "I wanted to sell out when I
first found that we were competing with Silas Trimmer, and young
Burnit kept me from it by an injunction. He offered me ten thousand
dollars for my interest once, but this morning when I went to accept
that offer he would only give me this five thousand. It's just five
thousand dollars that he's robbed me of."

"_Robbed!_" shrilled Johnson, jumping from his chair. "Applerod, you
weigh a hundred and eighty pounds and I weigh a hundred and
thirty-seven, but I can lick you the best day you ever lived; and by
thunder and blazes! if you let fall another remark like that I'll
knock your infernal head off!"

Mr. Johnson had on no coat, but he felt the urgent need to remove
something, so he tore off one false sleeve, wadded it up in a little
ball and slammed it on the floor with great vigor, tore off the other
on