ery man in the world has a grievance and regards himself as
much-abused, and in order to win the regard and confidence of that man,
all one has to do is feel around for the grievance and then play upon
it. Mr. Pike, in his province of employer, had been compelled to study
the methods of successful labor-union agitators.

"You don't know much about me, but I know plenty about you," he began,
closing one eye and nodding wisely. "I hadn't been here very long before
I found out who was the real brains of that outfit up at the palace."

"Really, you know, we are not supposed to discuss the merits of our
ruler," said Popova, fairly startled at the candid tone of the other. He
lifted one hand in timid deprecation.

"Of course you're not. That's why some one who is simply a figurehead
goes on taking all the credit for tricks turned by a smart fellow who is
working for him. Now, if you lived in the dear old land of ready money,
where the accident of birth doesn't give any man the right to sit on
somebody else's neck, you'd be a big gun. You'd have money and a pull
and probably, before you got through, you'd be investigated. Over here,
you are deliberately kept in the background. You are the Patsy."

"The what?"

"The squidge--that means the fellow who does all the worrying and gets
nothing out of it. Now, before you return to what you call the palace,
and which looks to me like the main building of the Allegheny Brick
Works, will you do me the honor of going into that cave of gloom, known
as the American bar, and hitting up just one small libation?"

"I am not sure that I catch your meaning," said Popova, who felt himself
somewhat smothered by rhetoric.

"Into the bar--down at the little iron table--business of hoisting
beverage."

"We of the faith are not supposed to partake of any drink containing
even a small percentage of alcohol."

"I'm not _supposed_ to dally with it myself, having been brought up on
cistern water, but I find in traveling that I entertain a more kindly
feeling for you strange foreign people when I carry a medium-sized
headlight. Come along, now. Don't compel me to tear your clothes."

There was no resisting the masterful spirit of the young steel magnate,
and Popova was led away to a remote apartment, where a single shelf,
sparsely set with bottles, made a weak effort to reproduce the fabled
splendors of far-away New York.

"Let's see, what shall we tackle?" asked Mr. Pike, as he checked down