"I also have explained," Martin broke in, "and I have explained that I
want the money to-day."

He had felt his pulse quicken a trifle at the business manager's
brusqueness, and upon him he kept an alert eye, for it was in that
gentleman's trousers pocket that he divined the Transcontinental's ready
cash was reposing.

"It is too bad--" Mr. Ford began.

But at that moment, with an impatient movement, Mr. Ends turned as if
about to leave the room. At the same instant Martin sprang for him,
clutching him by the throat with one hand in such fashion that Mr. Ends'
snow-white beard, still maintaining its immaculate trimness, pointed
ceilingward at an angle of forty-five degrees. To the horror of Mr.
White and Mr. Ford, they saw their business manager shaken like an
Astrakhan rug.

"Dig up, you venerable discourager of rising young talent!" Martin
exhorted. "Dig up, or I'll shake it out of you, even if it's all in
nickels." Then, to the two affrighted onlookers: "Keep away! If you
interfere, somebody's liable to get hurt."

Mr. Ends was choking, and it was not until the grip on his throat was
eased that he was able to signify his acquiescence in the digging-up
programme. All together, after repeated digs, its trousers pocket
yielded four dollars and fifteen cents.

"Inside out with it," Martin commanded.

An additional ten cents fell out. Martin counted the result of his raid
a second time to make sure.

"You next!" he shouted at Mr. Ford. "I want seventy-five cents more."

Mr. Ford did not wait, but ransacked his pockets, with the result of
sixty cents.

"Sure that is all?" Martin demanded menacingly, possessing himself of it.
"What have you got in your vest pockets?"

In token of his good faith, Mr. Ford turned two of his pockets inside
out. A strip of cardboard fell to the floor from one of them. He
recovered it and was in the act of returning it, when Martin cried:-

"What's that?--A ferry ticket? Here, give it to me. It's worth ten
cents. I'll credit you with it. I've now got four dollars and ninety-
five cents, including the ticket. Five cents is still due me."

He looked fiercely at Mr. White, and found that fragile creature in the
act of handing him a nickel.

"Thank you," Martin said, addressing them collectively. "I wish you a
good day."

"Robber!" Mr. Ends snarled after him.

"Sneak-thief!" Martin retorted, slamming the door as he passed out.

Martin was elated--so elated that