uldn't."

"What?"

"Put that thing--that cigar quite so near. If you don't mind."

Raish withdrew the cigar and looked at it and his companion.

"Oh, yes, yes; I see!" he said, after a moment. "You object to tobacco,
then?"

Galusha drew a relieved breath. "Why--ah--no," he said, slowly, "not
to--ah--tobacco." Then he added, hastily: "But, really, Mr. Pulcifer, I
must be going."

Pulcifer pushed him back into the chair again. His tone became brisk and
businesslike. "Hold on, Perfessor," he said. "You say you want to make
money?"

Galusha had not said so, but it seemed scarcely worth while to deny the
assertion. And Raish waited for no denial. "You want to make money,"
he repeated. "All right, so do I. And I've got a scheme that'll help us
both to make a little. Now listen. But before I tell you, you've got to
give me your word to keep it dark; see?"

Galusha promised and Raish proceeded to explain his scheme. Briefly it
amounted to this: Galusha Bangs, being a close acquaintance of Martha
Phipps and Jethro Hallett, was to use that acquaintanceship to induce
them to sell their shares in the Development Company. For such an
effort, if successful, on the part of Mr. Bangs, he, Horatio Pulcifer,
was prepared to pay a commission of fifty dollars, twenty-five when he
received Martha's shares and twenty-five when Jethro's were delivered.

"There," he said, in conclusion, "is a chance I'm offerin' you, as a
friend, to clean up fifty good, hard, round dollars. What do you say,
old man?"

The "old man"--Galusha winced slightly at the appellation--did not seem
to know what to say. His facial expression might have indicated any or
all of a variety of feelings. At last, he stammered a question. Why did
Mr. Pulcifer wish to obtain the Development stock? This question Raish
would not answer.

"Never mind," he said. "I do, that's all. And I've got the money to do
it with. I'll pay cash for their stock and I'll pay you cash when you or
they hand it over. That's business, ain't it?"

"But--but, dear me, Mr. Pulcifer, why do you ask ME to do this? Why--"

"Ain't I told you? You're a friend of mine and I'm givin' you the chance
because I think you need the money. That's a reason, ain't it?"

"Why--yes. It is--ah--a reason. But why don't you buy the stock
yourself?"

For an instant Raish's smoothness deserted him. His temper flared.

"Because the cussed fools won't sell it to me," he snapped. "That is,
they ain't said t