tell you to come
here?"

Moffatt laughed. "No, SIR--not by a good many miles."

Mr. Spragg removed his feet from the scrap basket and straightened
himself in his chair.

"Well--I didn't either; good morning, Mr. Moffatt."

The young man stared a moment, a humorous glint in his small black eyes;
but he made no motion to leave his seat. "Undine's to be married next
week, isn't she?" he asked in a conversational tone.

Mr. Spragg's face blackened and he swung about in his revolving chair.

"You go to--"

Moffatt raised a deprecating hand. "Oh, you needn't warn me off. I
don't want to be invited to the wedding. And I don't want to forbid the
banns."

There was a derisive sound in Mr. Spragg's throat.

"But I DO want to get out of Driscoll's office," Moffatt imperturbably
continued. "There's no future there for a fellow like me. I see things
big. That's the reason Apex was too tight a fit for me. It's only
the little fellows that succeed in little places. New York's my
size--without a single alteration. I could prove it to you to-morrow if
I could put my hand on fifty thousand dollars."

Mr. Spragg did not repeat his gesture of dismissal: he was once more
listening guardedly but intently. Moffatt saw it and continued.

"And I could put my hand on double that sum--yes, sir, DOUBLE--if you'd
just step round with me to old Driscoll's office before five P. M. See
the connection, Mr. Spragg?"

The older man remained silent while his visitor hummed a bar or two of
"In the Gloaming"; then he said: "You want me to tell Driscoll what I
know about James J. Rolliver?"

"I want you to tell the truth--I want you to stand for political purity
in your native state. A man of your prominence owes it to the community,
sir," cried Moffatt. Mr. Spragg was still tormenting his Masonic emblem.

"Rolliver and I always stood together," he said at last, with a tinge of
reluctance.

"Well, how much have you made out of it? Ain't he always been ahead of
the game?"

"I can't do it--I can't do it," said Mr. Spragg, bringing his clenched
hand down on the desk, as if addressing an invisible throng of
assailants.

Moffatt rose without any evidence of disappointment in his ruddy
countenance. "Well, so long," he said, moving toward the door. Near
the threshold he paused to add carelessly: "Excuse my referring to a
personal matter--but I understand Miss Spragg's wedding takes place next
Monday."

Mr. Spragg was silent.

"How's that?