if she thought she could take dictation direct,
and on her replying doubtfully that she could try, transferred her and
her machine to his den, which was littered with newspapers,
proof-sheets, and foolscap. Walking to and fro with a sheet of the
latter inscribed with a few notes in his hand, the hermit proceeded to
deliver himself to the briskly clicking writing machine.

"Three-em dash," said he at the close. "That seemed to go fairly well."

"Are you training me?" asked Miss Westlake.

"No. I'm training myself. It's easier to write, but it's quicker to
talk. Some day I'm going to be really busy"--Miss Westlake gasped--"and
time-saving will be important. Shall we try it again to-morrow?"

She nodded. "I could brush up my shorthand and take it quicker."

"Do you know shorthand?" He looked at her contemplatively. "Would you
care to take a regular position, paying rather better than this casual
work?"

"With you?" asked Miss Westlake in a tone which constituted a sufficient
acceptance.

"Yes. Always supposing that I land one myself. I'm in a big gamble, and
these," he swept a hand over the littered accumulations, "are my cards.
If they're good enough, I'll win."

"They are good enough," said Miss Westlake with simple faith.

"I'll know to-morrow," replied Banneker.

For a young man, jobless, highly unsettled of prospects, the ratio of
whose debts to his assets was inversely to what it should have been,
Banneker presented a singularly care-free aspect when, at 11 A.M. of a
rainy morning, he called at Mr. Tertius Marrineal's Fifth Avenue house,
bringing with him a suitcase heavily packed. Mr. Marrineal's personal
Jap took over the burden and conducted it and its owner to a small rear
room at the top of the house. Banneker apprehended at the first glance
that this was a room for work. Mr. Marrineal, rising from behind a
broad, glass-topped table with his accustomed amiable smile, also looked
workmanlike.

"You have decided to come with us, I hope," said he pleasantly enough,
yet with a casual politeness which might have been meant to suggest a
measure of indifference. Banneker at once caught the note of bargaining.

"If you think my ideas are worth my price," he replied.

"Let's have the ideas."

"No trouble to show goods," Banneker said, unclasping the suitcase. He
preferred to keep the talk in light tone until his time came. From the
case he extracted two close-packed piles of news-print, folded in half.