“It was great--famous. The orders just rolled in. We made money hand over fist and spent it like water. One day, though, there came a stop to it all. A lawyer served an injunction on us. It seemed that the device was a French invention patented in this country. My partner sloped with most of the funds, leaving me stranded. All the same, it’s a great business--the mail order line.” For over an hour Frank kept their guest busy answering a hundred earnest questions as to all the details of the mail order business. When Gregson had retired for the night Frank sat silent and thoughtful in the company of his mother. Finally he said. “Mother, Mr. Gregson’s talk has done me a lot of good.” “I saw you were very much interested,” remarked Mrs. Ismond. “Interested!” repeated Frank with vim, unable to control his restless spirit and getting up and pacing the room to and fro--“I am simply wild to go deeper into this mail order business. Why, it looks plain as day to me--the way to begin it--the way to exploit it--the way to make a great big success of it. He says that little metal novelties of the household kind take the best. I was just thinking: there’s a hardware novelties factory right on the spot at Pleasantville, and--Down, Christmas, down!” The dog had interrupted Frank with a low growl. Then, before Frank could deter him, the animal flew at the open window of the sitting-room. Frank seized Christmas by the collar, just as the animal was aiming to leap clear through it to the garden outside. “Why, what is the matter, Christmas?” spoke Mrs. Ismond, arising to her feet in some surprise. Just then a frightful shriek rang out from under the open window, accompanied by the frantic words: “Help, murder, help--I’m nearly killed!” CHAPTER VI “MAIL ORDER FRANK” At the outcry from beyond the window of the little sitting-room, the dog, Christmas, became fairly frantic. Seizing him by the collar, however, Frank gave him a stern word. Wont to obey, the animal retreated to one side of the room, but still growling, and his fur bristling. Frank instantly caught up the lamp from the table and carried it to the window. His mother peered out in a startled way at the scene now illuminated without. “Why, it is Mr. Dorsett!” she exclaimed. “As I expected,” said Frank, quietly. “Frank,” murmured his mother, anxiously, “what have you been doing?” “Preparing for eavesdroppers--and sneaks. Caught one first set of the trap, it seems,” responded Frank in clear, loud tones. The captured lurker was indeed Dorsett. He was panting and infuriated. One foot was held imprisoned in a wooden spring clamp chained to a log in a hole in the ground. This aperture had been covered with light pieces of sod which Dorsett was pushing aside with his cane, while he continued to groan with pain. The lamplight enabled him to discern more clearly the trap that had caught him. He managed to pull one side of the contrivance loose and got his foot free.