“Humph!” she said, after a moment. “Well, let him come, as far as I'm concerned. I never was afraid of Raish Pulcifer yet and I'm not now. Lulie, if you don't want to meet him, you might go into the sitting room.” Lulie hesitated. “Well, perhaps I will,” she said. “Father has told me a little about--Well, I imagine Raish will be disagreeable and I don't feel like going through more disagreeableness just now. I'll wait in here till he goes, Martha.” “Perhaps you'd like to go, too, Mr. Cabot,” suggested Martha. Cabot shrugged. “Not unless you wish me to,” he replied. “I've never met this agent of ours and I wouldn't mind seeing what he looks like. Williams hired him, so he doesn't know me from Adam.” For the first time that morning Miss Phipps addressed her boarder directly. “How about you, Mr. Bangs?” she asked. Galusha did not appear to hear the question, and before it was repeated a knock, loud, portentous, threatening, sounded upon the door. “Let him in, Primmie,” commanded Miss Phipps. Mr. Pulcifer entered. His bearing was as ominous as his knock. He nodded to Martha, glanced inquiringly at Cabot, and then turned his gaze upon Galusha Bangs. “Well, Raish,” said Martha, cheerfully, “you're an early bird this mornin'. How do you do?” The great Horatio's only acknowledgment of the greeting was a nod. He did not even remove his cap. He was looking at the little man in the chair at the foot of the table and he seemed quite oblivious of any one else. And Galusha, for that matter, seemed quite as oblivious of him. The Pulcifer mouth opened and the Pulcifer finger pointed. “Say,” commanded Raish. “Say--you!” And as this seemed to have little or no effect upon the individual toward whom the finger pointed, he added: “Say, you--er--What's-your-name--Bangs.” Galusha, who had been absently playing with his napkin, twisting it into folds and then untwisting it, looked up. “Eh?” he queried. “Oh, yes--yes, of course. How do you do, Mr. Pulcifer?” This placidity seemed to shut off Raish's breath for the moment, but it returned in full supply. “How do I DO!” he repeated. “Well, I ain't what you'd call fust-rate, I'd say. I'm pretty darn sick, if anybody should ask you. I've had enough to make me sick. Say, look here, Bangs! What kind of a game is this you've been puttin' over on me--hey?... Hey?” “Game?... I--ah--pardon me, I don't know that I quite understand, Mr. Pulcifer.” “Don't you? Well, I don't understand neither. But I cal'late to pretty quick. What did Jeth Hallett mean last night by sayin' that he'd sold his four hundred Development a couple of months ago? What did he mean by it?” Martha Phipps was about to speak. Cabot, too, leaned forward. But Galusha raised a protesting hand. “Please,” he said. “Mr. Pulcifer has a perfect right to ask. I have--ah--been expecting him to do so. Well, Mr. Pulcifer, I presume Captain Hallet meant that he had--ah--sold the stock.”