“Hello, Larry!” exclaimed a voice, and Mr. Newton came around the corner of the corridor. “You here yet?” “I was waiting for you to come back,” replied Larry. “Mr. Emberg told me to stay, and see that nothing broke loose while you were at lunch.” “Anything doing?” “Not a thing.” Larry turned to see if the stranger was at his side, but, to his surprise, the man had vanished. “What did he want?” asked Mr. Newton, with a nod of his head toward where the man had been standing. “Why, he wanted me to leave the _Leader_, and take a position with some real estate firm,” answered Larry. “Don’t you have anything to do with Sam Perkins,” said Mr. Newton. “Is that his name?” inquired Larry. Then he looked at the card the man had given him, and read on it: “Samuel Perkins, representing the Universal Real Estate Co. Main Office, 1144 Broadway, New York. Loans and Commissions.” “That’s who he is,” replied Mr. Newton. “What was his game this time?” “That’s just what I was trying to puzzle out,” was Larry’s answer, as he related what the man had said. Mr. Newton listened carefully. He nodded his head several times. “That’s it, I’ll bet a cookie. When you go home ask your mother just what Perkins said, and let me know.” “Why, do you think there is something wrong in his offer?” “I can’t tell. I have my suspicions, but I’ll not speak of them until I know more. Tell me what your mother says. In the meanwhile, if Perkins comes to you again, which I don’t think he will, since he has seen me speaking to you, just put him off until you can communicate with me.” “Do you know him?” “Know him? I guess yes!” replied Mr. Newton. “He was mixed up in more than one boodle and land scandal with the aldermen, but we never could get enough evidence to convict him. Maybe we can this time, if he’s up to any of his tricks. Don’t forget to ask your mother all about his visit.” “I’ll remember,” replied Larry. Then, as the City Hall was about to close for the day, they went back to the office. CHAPTER VIII THE AGENT’S PROPOSITION That night Larry questioned his mother closely about the visit Mr. Perkins said he had paid her. “I didn’t know his name,” said Mrs. Dexter, in telling her story. “He came to the door, and asked if you were my son. Then he said a reporter’s life was a hard one, and asked me if I didn’t think you had better get a position somewhere else. I thought he was a friend of yours, and when he said he could give you a good job in the real estate office I thought it would be a good thing, and said so.” “Is that all, mother?” “Well, pretty nearly. He did ask a few questions about your father.” “What did he want to know?” “Well, he wanted to know where we came from, where we used to live, and whether your father ever owned any land here in New York.” “What did you tell him?”