“It's right round the corner, an' down the fust side street, towards the court-house. I 'ain't got nothin' to do; I 'll p'int it out.” “Thank you,” said Wilson, and they went out of the house and down the street together, Pole puffing vigorously at his cigar in the brisk breeze. “Thar you are,” said Pole, pointing to Miller's sign. “Good-day, sir; much obleeged fer this smoke,” and with his head in the air Pole walked past the office without looking in. “Good-morning,” exclaimed Miller, as Wilson entered. “You are not an early riser like we are here in the country.” He introduced Wilson all round, and then gave him a chair near his desk and facing him rather than the others. “This is the gentleman who owns the property, I believe,” said Wilson, suavely, as he indicated Bishop. Miller nodded, and a look of cunning dawned in his clear eye. “Yes. I have just been explaining to Mr. and Mrs. Bishop that the mere signing of a paper such as will be necessary to secure the loan will not bind them at all in the handling of their property. You know how cautious older people are nowadays in regard to legal matters. Now, Alan here, their son, understands the matter thoroughly, and his mind is not at all disturbed.” Wilson fell into the preliminary trap. “Oh no; it's not a binding thing at all,” he said. “The payment of the money back to us releases you--that is, of course,” Wilson recovered himself, “if we make the loan.” Several hearts in the room sank, but Miller's face did not alter in the slightest. “Oh, of course, if the loan is made,” he said. Wilson put his silk hat on the top of Miller's desk, and flicked the ashes from his cigar into a cuspidor. Then he looked at Mrs. Bishop suddenly--“Does the lady object to smoking?” “Not at all,” said the old lady--“not at all.” There was a pause as Wilson relighted his cigar and pulled at it in silence. A step sounded on the sidewalk and Trabue put his head in at the door. Miller could have sworn at him, but he smiled. “Good-morning, Squire,” he said. “I see you are busy,” said the intruder, hastily. “Just a little, Squire. I 'll see you in a few minutes.” “Oh, all right.” The old lawyer moved on down the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets. Miller brought up the subject again with easy adroitness. “I mentioned your proposition to my clients--the proposition that they allow you the refusal of the land at one hundred thousand, and they have finally come round to it. As I told them, they could not possibly market a thing like that as easily and for as good a price as a company regularly in the business. I may have been wrong in giving such advice, but it was the way I felt about it.” Without realizing it, Wilson tripped in another hole dug by Miller's inventive mind.