* * * * *

"Good-morning, Henry," said Mr. Mix, soberly. "First time I've had a
chance to speak to you since...." He coughed discreetly. "I don't
believe I need to say that if there's anything I can do for you at any
time, all you've got to do is to say so."

Privately, Henry had always considered Mr. Mix as a genial poseur, but
he knew that Mr. Mix belonged to the Citizens Club, which was the
local standard, and that for thirty years he had been on rather
intimate business relations with Mr. Starkweather. This was sufficient
recommendation for Henry, in the swirl of his agitation, to loose his
tongue.

"All right," he said. "Tell me how soon I can sell this overgrown
magic-lantern outfit--and what I can get for it--and where I can put
the money to bring in the biggest income--and where I can get a good
job."

Now all this was intended to be purely in the nature of a rhetorical
question: for naturally, if Henry decided to sell, he would want Bob
Standish to handle the transaction for him, and to get the commission:
and also, if Henry had to find employment, he would go to his friend,
and be sure of a cordial reception. But Mr. Mix took it literally.

Mr. Mix started, and his memory began to unfold. It was on the tip of
his tongue to blurt out: "And lose your shot at the estate?" but he
restrained himself. He wasn't supposed to know the circumstances, and
as a matter of fact, as he realized with a thrill of relish, he was
probably the only outsider who _did_ know the circumstances. "Why,"
said Mr. Mix. "Do you own the Orpheum? Well, I should say offhand it's
worth a good deal. Twenty thousand. The land, you know: the building's
no good."

Henry nodded impatiently. "Yes, but who'd buy it?"

"Well, now, about _that_--of course, I'm not a real estate man--but
you could certainly _trade_ it."

"What for?"

Mr. Mix caught the note of sincerity in Henry's voice, and Mr. Mix
thought rapidly. He appeared to deliberate, to waver, to burn his
bridges. "Well--say for a third interest in Theodore Mix and
Company."

Henry stared. "Are you serious?"

Mr. Mix almost fell over backwards. "Why, yes. It's sudden, but ...
why, yes. I could use more capital, and I want a crack salesman. I'll
trade--if you're quick on the trigger. I've got two or three people
interested so far, but when it's _you_--"

Henry took him by the arm. "Come on over to the Citizens Club, then,
and we'll talk about it."