"Sorry," laughed Minot. "Lord Harrowby, however, deems it best to call a halt. He suggests--" "Pardon me," interrupted Mr. Trimmer grandiloquently. "As the victor in the contest, I shall do any suggesting that is done. And what I suggest is this--to-morrow morning I shall call upon Allan Harrowby at his hotel. I shall bring George with me, also some newspaper friends of mine. In front of the crowd Allan Harrowby must acknowledge his brother as the future heir to the earldom of Raybrook." "Why the newspaper men?" Minot inquired. "Publicity," said Trimmer. "It's the breath of life to me--my business, my first love, my last. Frankly, I want all the advertisement out of this thing I can get. At what hour shall we call?" "You would not consider a delay of a few days?" Minot asked. "Save your breath," advised Trimmer promptly. "Ah--I feared it," laughed Minot. "Well then--shall we say eleven o'clock? You are to call--with George Harrowby." "Eleven it is," said Trimmer. They had reached a little park by the harbor's edge. Trimmer looked at his watch. "And that being all settled, I'll run back to the theater." "I myself have advised Harrowby to surrender--" Minot began. "Wise boy. Good night," said Trimmer, moving away. "Not that I have been particularly impressed by your standing as a publicity man," continued Minot. Mr. Trimmer stopped in his tracks. "As a matter of fact," went on Minot. "I never heard of you or any of the things you claim to have advertised, until I came to San Marco." Mr. Trimmer came slowly back up the grave walk. "In just what inland hamlet, untouched by telegraph, telephone, newspaper and railroad," he asked, "have you been living?" Minot dropped to a handy bench, and smiled up into Mr. Trimmer's thin face. "New York City," he replied. Mr. Trimmer glanced back at the lights of San Marco, hesitatingly. Then--it was really a cruel temptation--he sat down beside Minot on the bench. "Do you mean to tell me," he inquired, "that you lived in New York two years ago and didn't hear of Cotrell's Ink Eraser?" "Such was my unhappy fate," smiled Minot. "Then you were in Ludlow Street jail, that's all I've got to say," Trimmer replied. "Why, man--what I did for that eraser is famous. I rigged up a big electric sign in Times Square and all night long I had an electric Cotrell's erasing indiscreet sentences--the kind of things people write when they get foolish with their fountain pens--for instance--'I hereby deed to Tottie Footlights all my real and personal property'--and the like. It took the town by storm. Theatrical managers complained that people preferred to stand and look at my sign rather than visit the shows. Can you look me in the eye and say that you never saw that sign?" "Well," Minot answered, "I begin to remember a little about it now."