"That'll get 'em!" he exulted. "If that don't bring in the money to make this the greatest organization in the business, I don't want a cent!" "You spread it on too much," objected Neil. "Why can't we do just as well or better by presenting the thing squarely? It seems to me that any man who would be caught by the self-evident buncombe of that thing would be too big a sucker to have any money." Wallingford looked at him thoughtfully. "You're right, in a way, Neil," he admitted. "The men who have real money wouldn't touch it, but the people we're appealing to have stacked theirs up a cent at a time, and they are afraid of all investments--even of the banks. When you offer them thirty per cent., however, they are willing to take a chance; and, after all, I don't see why, with the money that comes in from this stock sale, we should not be able to expand our organization to even larger proportions than the Provident Friends. If we do that, what is to prevent a good dividend to our stockholders?" Clover glanced at his partner in surprise. From that overawing bulk there positively radiated high moral purpose, and Neil shriveled under it. When they were alone, Clover, making idle marks with his pencil, looked up at Wallingford from time to time from under shaggy brows, and finally he laughed aloud. "You're the limit," he observed. "That's a fine line of talk you gave Neil." "Can't we buy him out?" asked Wallingford abruptly. "What with? A note?" inquired Clover. "Hardly." "Cash, then." "Will you put it up?" "I'll see about it, for if I have him gauged right he will be hunting for trouble all along the line." Wallingford went to the window and looked out; then he got his hat. As he stepped into the hall Neil came from an adjoining room. "Do you want to sell your stock, Neil?" asked Clover. "To whom?" asked Neil slowly. Wallingford had shaken his slow deductions, had suggested new possibilities to ponder, and he was still bewildered. "To Wallingford." "Say, Clover, has he _got_ any money?" demanded Neil. "If he hasn't he can get it," replied the other. "Come here a minute." He drew Neil to the window and they looked down into the street. Standing in front of the office building was a huge, maroon-colored automobile with a leather-capped chauffeur in front. As they watched, Mr. Wallingford came out to the curb and the chauffeur saluted with his finger. Mr. Wallingford took from the rear seat a broad-checked ulster, put it on, and exchanged his derby for a cap to match. Then he climbed into the auto and went whirring away. "That looks like money, don't it?" demanded Clover. "I give up," said Neil. "How much do you want for your stock?" inquired Clover, again with a smile. "Par!" exclaimed Neil, once more satisfied. "Nothing less!" "Right you are," agreed Clover. "This man Wallingford is the greatest ever, I tell you! He's a wonder, a positive genius, and it was a lucky day for me that I met him. He will make us all rich."