Skinner, we want _you_ to go out to St. Paul and get
him back."

Skinner looked curiously from one partner to the other, but both seemed
to be dead serious.

"But--I'm--I'm not a salesman," the "cage man" stammered.

"That's just it," said McLaughlin earnestly. "There must be something
wrong with the policy or the method or the manners of our salesmen, and
Mr. Perkins and I have thought about it till we're stale. We want to put
a fresh mind on the job."

"Jackson's gone over to the Starr-Bacon folks. They do well by him. How
am I going to pry him loose?" said Skinner.

"We'll do even better by him," said McLaughlin. "You know this business
as well as I do, Skinner. I 'm darned if I don't think you know it
better. You know how closely we can shave figures with our competitors,
I don't care who they are. I 'm going to make you our minister
plenipotentiary. Do as you please, only get Jackson. I don't care if
you take a small loss. We can make it up later. But we want his
business."

Skinner pondered a moment. "Really, Mr. McLaughlin, I don't know what to
say. I'm very grateful to you for such confidence. I 'll do my best,
sir."

"It'll take rare diplomacy, rare diplomacy, Skinner," McLaughlin warned.

"What kind of a man is Mr. Jackson?" Skinner asked presently. "I know
him by his letters, but what kind of man is he to meet?"

"The worst curmudgeon west of Pittsburg," said McLaughlin. "He'll insult
you, he'll abuse you, he might even threaten to assault you like he did
me. But he's got a bank roll as big as Vesuvius--and you know what his
business means to us. Take as much time as you like, spend as much money
as you like, Skinner,--don't stint yourself,--but _get_ Jackson!"

"Have you any suggestions?" said Skinner.

"Not one--and if I had, I would n't offer it. I want you to use your
wits in your own way, unhampered, unencumbered. It's up to you."

"When do you want me to go?"

"Business is business--the sooner the quicker!"

Skinner thought a moment. "Let's see--to-morrow's Sunday. I'll start
Monday morning, if that is satisfactory."

"Fine!" said McLaughlin, rising and shaking hands with his cashier.

Skinner walked to the door, paused, then came halfway back. "What kind
of a woman is Mrs. Jackson, Mr. McLaughlin?"

"Well," said McLaughlin, staggered by the question, "she don't handsome
much and she ain't very young, if that's what you mean."

Skinner blushed. "I didn't me