n my own responsibility, Mr. Pulcifer."

Raish could not believe it. "You bought it yourself!" he repeated. "No,
no, you don't get me. I mean whose money paid for it?"

"Why, my own."

Still it was plain that Horatio did not believe. As a matter of fact,
the conviction that Galusha Bangs was poverty-stricken was so thoroughly
implanted in the Pulcifer mind that not even a succession of earthquakes
like the recent disclosures could shake it loose. But Raish did not
press the point, for at that moment a new thought came to him. His
expression changed and his tone changed with it.

"Say, Bangs," demanded he, eagerly, "do you mean you've still got that
six hundred and fifty Development? Mean you ain't turned 'em over yet to
anybody else?"

"Eh? Why, no, Mr. Pulcifer, I haven't--ah--turned them over to any one
else."

"Good! Fust-rate! Fine and dandy! You and me can trade yet. You're all
right, Perfessor, you are. You've kind of put one acrost on me, but
don't make the mistake of thinkin' I'm holdin' that against you. No,
sir-ee! When a feller's smart enough to keep even with your Uncle Raish
in a deal then I know he gets up early--yes, sir, early, and that's when
I get up myself. Hey, Perfessor? Haw, haw! Now, I tell you: Let's you
and me go down to my office or somewheres where we can talk business.
Maybe I might want to buy that stock yet, you can't tell. Hey? Haw,
haw!"

He was exuding geniality now. But just here Mr. Augustus Cabot spoke.
Judging by his face, he had enjoyed the passage at arms between his
cousin and his business agent hugely. Now he entered the lists.

"That's all right, Pulcifer," he said. "You needn't trouble. I'll look
out for that stock, myself."

Horatio turned and stared. He had scarcely noticed the visitor before,
now he looked him over from head to foot.

"Hey? What's that?" he demanded. Cabot repeated his statement. Raish
snorted.

"You'll look after the stock!" he repeated. "YOU will? Who are you?"

Cousin Gussie tossed a card across the table. "Cabot is my name," he
said.

Galusha suddenly remembered.

"Oh, dear me!" he exclaimed. "I--I forgot. Please forgive me.
Cousin Gussie, this is Mr. Pulcifer. Mr. Pulcifer, this gentleman is
my--ah--Cousin Gu--I mean my cousin, Mr. Cabot, from Boston."

But Mr. Pulcifer did not hear. He was staring at the names of the
individual and of the firm upon the card and icy fingers were playing
tunes up and down his vertebrae. For the second