e it. Anyhow, he's gone--and about twenty
thousand dollars worth of preferred business with a thirty per cent
loss ratio for ten years has gone with him."

The President rose and walked up and down his office. This was
bringing the fight to his very door, with a vengeance.

"What can we do about it?" he said, stopping in front of Cuyler and
fixing on that dismayed person a vaguely furious gaze.

"I don't know. I suppose we'll have to hunt around and dig up another
branch manager in O'Brien's place. It'll take a lot of hunting,
though. You don't pick up a business like that every day in the week."

The President could make no better suggestion, and in this instance he
did not call the Vice-President into conference.

"Do the best you can, then," he said shortly; "and let me know how
you're getting along."

Mr. Cuyler descended gloomily to his proper milieu, and took up the
task of finding a branch office manager to replace the recreant
O'Brien. But agents like O'Brien were few, and most of the best of
them had their own old-established connections with other companies.
Again, the Guardian's reputation for conservatism made Cuyler's task
the harder. One or two, after considering the matter, were frightened
away by their dread lest the Guardian accept nothing but their more
desirable risks, making it all the more difficult for them to place
those that were not so desirable. The Guardian's local secretary had
as wide an acquaintance as any man on the Street, but he found himself
confronted by an exceedingly difficult problem.

Meanwhile a branch manager must be secured. The company's local income
was dropping behind in a way that had not happened within the memory of
man. In this state of affairs it was not long before Cuyler again
sought Mr. Wintermuth, and this time the advice of Mr. Gunterson was
solicited.

It had been nearly a week since Mr. Gunterson had been impaled upon any
very serious dilemma, and in this interval he had regained much of his
shaken confidence, so that he addressed himself to the solution of Mr.
Cuyler's difficulties with much of his pristine assurance.

"Why not get Joe Darkner? He's got a fine class of business and a lot
of it," he suggested at once.

"Yes, but he's sewed up body and soul with the National of Norway,"
Cuyler responded shortly.

"Well, what's the matter with Hart and Leith?"

"Nothing but East Side stuff. Besides, they're dead ones--won't last
out the ye