e handed them out and laid them on the
glass before him.

The man leaned forward and peered into the case.

"That's a picture of the Palisades, isn't it?" He had ignored the fans.

"Yes, so I understand."

"Oh, I knew it first time I put my eyes on it. I'm in the real-estate
business. I've got a lot of cottage sites along that top edge. Is it for
sale?"

"It will be when it's cleaned and varnished and I have it framed."

"Belong to you?"

"No; it belongs to a man who has left it for sale. He went out as you
came in."

"What does he want for it?"

"He would be satisfied with ten dollars, even less, because he needs the
money. I want fifty."

"You want to make the rest?"

"No, it all goes to him."

"Well, what do you stick it on for?"

"Because if it isn't worth that, it isn't worth anything."

"Take it out and let me have a look at it. Yes, just the spot. That
whitish streak and that little puff of steam is where they're breaking
stone. Make a good advertisement, wouldn't it, hanging up in your
office? You can show the owners just where the land lies, and you can
show a customer just what he's going to own."

A brisk bargaining then followed, he determined to buy, and Felix to
maintain his price. Before the ten minutes were out, the bustling man
had forgotten all about the fan he was in search of for his wife and,
having assured himself that it was all oil-paint, every square inch of
it, had propped it up against an ancient clock, standing back to see the
effect, had haggled on five, then ten, then twenty-five, and had finally
surrendered by laying five ten-dollar bills on the glass case. After
which he tucked the picture under his arm, and without a word of any
kind disappeared through the street-door.

And that is why the note which Felix had promised to write Dogger was
sent by messenger instead of by mail within five minutes after the
picture and the buyer had disappeared. And that is why, too, all the
preliminary subterfuges were omitted, and the substitute contained the
announcement which follows:

"Dear Mr. Dogger:

"I have just sold your Palisade picture for fifty dollars. The amount is
at your service whenever you call.

"Yours truly,

"Felix O'Day."

That, too, is why Dogger was so overjoyed that he beat the messenger
back to Kling's, skipping over the flag-stones most of the way till he
reached the Dutchman's door, where, as befitted a painter whose genius
had at