The wire puzzle was still the leading seller of his list, but the apple-corer, strengthened by the special notices Markham had suggested, was beginning to take hold, too. Things looked very fair and prosperous for Frank that afternoon. The only depressing feature was the continued absence of Markham and the mystery surrounding it. Frank had hurried up to get the day off he now promised himself. There had been so much to do. Even now he was due in the city to talk over a proposition with a big manufacturer there. This gentleman offered to furnish Frank free an eight-page illustrated insert for his catalogue and special buying terms, if he would push the goods actively. The loss of the mailing lists had been severely felt at first. Mrs. Ismond’s bright wits, however, had quite solved that difficulty. She continued to send out circulars from the country papers that were exchanges on the Pleasantville _Herald_ list. “The business is growing fast,” reflected Frank. “Those who buy once, very often write for some article I haven’t got in stock. Why not run a special purchasing department? It looks very much as if this business will some day run into a great big mail order house, selling everything and having a warehouse of its own. Hold on, son--what’s the hurry?” A bareheaded, wild-eyed youngster turning a corner had bolted into Frank with considerable force. Frank grabbed him quickly and swung to a rebound poise, or both might have measured their length on the walk. “The very--fellow I--was after!” panted the urchin in a gasp. “That so?” said Frank. “Yes. Say, the fellows all like you.” “I’m glad. Thanks,” smiled Frank. “And sent me--to hunt you--and come back.” “Back where, son?” “Office--mail order house. Riot!” “Why, what do you mean?” inquired Frank, quickening his steps. “Big fellow from the country. Been drinking. Smashed one of your windows. Went away. Came back and smashed in the door. Says he’ll wreck the place.” “Why, what for?” demanded Frank, now walking still faster. “Says he’s a customer of yours. Says you swindled him. Says he’ll wipe you out. That’s it--run.” Frank was not only puzzled, but quite startled. He broke into a run. As he turned into the street where the office was located, he heard a mingled chorus of yells and cries. A crowd made up mostly of boys filled the lawn space in front of the office. A glance showed to Frank the lower sash of the big front window in ruins. The showcase outside lay tipped over on the ground. The office door, with an upper panel slivered, hung on one hinge. From inside the place there came slamming, crashing sounds. Frank realized that something serious was happening. He could not imagine what it could be. He was not the boy, however, to remain inactive while a wanton destruction of the little personal property he owned was going on. “Here he is!” cried an eager voice. “Say, Newton, don’t go in there. The man’s wild, crazy. He’ll half kill you.”