His broad democracy made him a familiar visitor to cigar stands, billiard parlors, gun stores, soft drink bars and cheap hotels where one encounters horsemen, expert trap shooters, pugilists, book-makers, and other agreeable characters never met in fashionable clubs. After much thought he chose as his co-conspirator, Peterson, a big Swede, to whom he had advanced money with which to open a Turkish bath. As the bath was flourishing the Swede welcomed an opportunity to express his gratitude to one he so greatly admired; and besides he still owed Wrong Number two hundred dollars. “I want a coupla guys that will look right in tall hats,” said Wrong Number. “You’ll do for one; you’ll make up fine for the Illyrian Minister of Foreign Affairs,--he’s a tall chap, you’ll see from that picture of the bunch being received at the New York city hall. Then you want a little weazened cuss who won’t look like an undertaker in a frock coat to stand for the Minister of Finance. We need four more to complete the string and they gotta have uniforms. Comic opera hats with feathers--you can’t make ’em too fancy.” The Swede nodded. The Uniform Rank of the Order of the Golden Buck of which he was a prominent member could provide the very thing. “And I gotta have one real Illyrian to spout the language to the delegation.” “What’s the matter with Bensaris who runs a candy shop near where I live? He’s the big squeeze among ’em.” “We’ll go down and see him. Remember, he don’t need to know anything; just do what I tell him. There’s a hundred in this for you, Pete, if you pull it right; expenses extra.” “The cops might pinch us,” suggested Peterson, warily. “And what you goin’ to do about the Mayor? It says in the papers that the Mayor meets the outfit at the Union Station.” “If the cops ask the countersign tell ’em you turned out to meet the remains of a deceased brother. And don’t worry about the Mayor. He’s been over the Grand Circuit with me and brought his money home in a trunk.” He drew a memorandum book from his pocket and set down the following items: Pete. 2 silk hats; five uni. Band. Bensaris. Mayor. 5 touring cars. “The honor, it is too much!” pleaded Bensaris when Wrong Number and Peterson told him all it was necessary for him to know, at a little table in the rear of his shop. “But in the day’s paper my daughter read me their excellencies be met at the Union Station; the arrange’ have been change’?” “The papers are never right,” declared Wrong Number. “And you don’t need to tell ’em anything.” “A lady, Mees Burgett, she came here to arrange all Illyrians go to Relief office to sing the songs of my country. My daughter, she shall dance and hand flowers to their excellencies!” cried Bensaris beaming. “The Bensaris family will be featured right through the bill,” said Wrong Number. “It is too kind,” insisted Bensaris. “It is for the Mayor you make the arrange’?”