uld have first
choice, of course, if he was here, but since he isn't you might as
well come in. Five thousand iron men are hardly worth bending to pick
up, I guess."

"Oh, I don't know," objected Wallingford condescendingly. "It would
make cigarette money, anyhow, if there are not too many to tear it
apart."

"It takes just four," Phelps informed him: "look-out, spieler,
panel-man and engraver."

Wallingford shook his head, refusing even to speculate on the duties
of the four named actors in the playlet.

"Four makes it hardly union wages," he objected.

Green-Goods Harry cast at him a look of quick dislike.

"I know, but wait till you see the sample," he insisted. "The fun's
worth more than the meat. He's the rawest you ever saw; wants green
goods, you know; thinks there really is green-goods, and stands ready
to exchange his five thousand of the genuine rhino for twenty of the
phoney stuff. Of course you know how this little joke is rimmed up. We
count out the twenty thousand in real money and wrap it up in bales
before both of his eyes, then put it in a little satchel of which we
make Mr. Alfred Alfalfa a present. While we're giving him the solemn
talk about the po-lice Badger Billy switches in another satchel with
the same kind of looking bales in it, but made out of tissue-paper
with twenties top and bottom; then we all move, and Henry Whiskers
don't dare make a holler because he's in on a crooked play himself;
see?"

"I see," assented Wallingford still dryly. "I've been reading the
papers ever since I was a kid. What puzzles me is how you can find
anybody left in the world who isn't hep."

"There's a new sucker born every minute," returned Mr. Phelps airily,
whereat Wallingford, detecting that Mr. Phelps held his intelligence
and education so cheaply as to offer this sage remark as original,
inwardly fumed.

"Come on and look him over, anyhow," insisted Phelps, rising.

Wallingford arose reluctantly.

"What's the matter with your highball?" he demanded.

"It's great Scotch!" said Mr. Phelps enthusiastically, and drank about
a tablespoonful with great avidity. "Come on; the boys are waiting,"
and he surged toward the door.

Wallingford finished his own glass contemplatively and followed with a
trace of annoyance.

CHAPTER VII

WALLINGFORD HELPS IN A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET
PURELY FOR ACCOMMODATION

Into the back room of a flashy saloon just off Broadway Mr. Phelps led
the way, after pa