it
was. It seems to me that I had a vague thought--not an idea,
exactly, but--Well, perhaps it will come back. I have had a number
of--ah--distractions of late. They have caused me to forget the spirits.
I'm very sorry, really. I must try now and reconsider the considering.
Dear me, how involved I am getting! Never mind, we are going to win yet.
Oh, I am sure of it."

The distractions to which he referred were, of course, the recent
and mysterious machinations of Raish Pulcifer. And he was to be again
distracted that very afternoon. For as, after parting with Howard,
he was walking slowly along the main road, pondering deeply upon the
problem presented by the love affair of his two young friends and its
spirit complications, he was awakened from his reverie by a series of
sharp clicks close at his ear. He started, looked up and about, and saw
that he was directly opposite the business office of the great Horatio.
He heard the clicks again and realized that they were caused by the
tapping of the windowpane by a ring upon a masculine finger. The
ring appeared to be--but was not--a mammoth pigeon-blood ruby and it
ornamented, or set off, the hand of Mr. Pulcifer himself.

Galusha stared uncomprehendingly at the hand and ring. Then the hand
beckoned frantically. Mr. Bangs raised his eyes and saw, through the
dingy pane, the face of the owner of the hand. The lower portion of the
face was in eager motion. "Come in," Mr. Pulcifer was whispering. "Come
on in!"

Galusha wonderingly entered the office. He had no desire for
conversation with its proprietor, but he was curious to know what the
latter wanted.

"Ah--good-afternoon, Mr. Pulcifer," he said.

Raish did not answer immediately. His first move was to cross to the
door by which his visitor had entered, close and lock it. His next was
to lower the window shade a trifle. Then he turned and smiled--nay,
beamed upon that visitor.

"Set down, set down, Perfessor," he urged, with great cordiality. "Well,
well, well! It's good to see you again, be hanged if it ain't now! How's
things down to the bluffs? Joggin' along, joggin' along in the same old
rut, the way the feller with the wheelbarrer went to market? Eh? Haw,
haw, haw! Have a cigar, Perfessor?"

Galusha declined the cigar. He would also have declined the invitation
to sit, but Mr. Pulcifer would not hear of it. He all but forced his
caller into a chair.

"Set down," he insisted. "Just as cheap settin' as standin