Leisurely we walked to the office. "If we get ten subscribers to-day to start with, we'll make a fine beginning," I said. As we approached the Hotel Marlborough, which is opposite the building on Broadway in which the Maxim & Gay Company had its modest little office, our attention turned abruptly to a crowd of people who were being lined up by half a dozen policemen. "What theater has a sale of seats to-day?" Campbell asked. "Don't know," I answered. As we approached the office, we found that the line extended into our own office building. As we ambled up the rickety stairs, we passed the crowd in line, one by one, until we discovered, to our great astonishment, that the line ended at our door. We turned the key, walked in, locked the door, and stood aghast. Holding up both hands, I gasped, "In heaven's name, what have we done?" I was appalled. "Give 'em Annie Lauretta," cried Campbell. "But suppose Annie don't win," I expostulated. "Smokes!" exclaimed Campbell. "Are you going to turn down all those $5 bills?" "Let's see that telegram," I faltered. I perused it over and over again. "Mead's judgment on Silver Coin is good enough reason to warrant advising people to put a wager on another one of his choices," Campbell argued. I agreed. How to convey the information in merchantable form was the next question. A typist in the Hotel Marlborough, across the way, was sent for and asked to strike off the name "Annie Lauretta" 500 or 1,000 times on slips of paper. Envelopes were bought and a typed slip was placed in each. The line increased until it was a block and a half long. When all was ready, the door was opened. Campbell passed the envelopes out as each man handed me $5. I stuffed the money in the right-hand drawer of the desk, and when that became choked, I stuffed it in the left-hand drawer. Finally, the money came so thick and fast that I picked up the waste-paper basket from the floor, lifted it to the top of the desk and asked the buyers to throw their money into the receptacle. When a man wanted change, I let him help himself. For two and a half hours, or until within fifteen minutes of the calling of the first race at New Orleans, the crowd thronged in and out of our office. When the last man passed out we counted the money and found the day's proceeds to be $2,755. "What will we do next?" asked Campbell. "What's my job, and what do I get?" "How much do you want?" I asked. "Ten dollars a day," he said. Thereupon he got possession of the $10 and he admitted it was more money than he had seen in a month. "What will we do next?" he repeated. "Let us take a walk," I said. "Lock the office until after the fourth race, when we see what Annie Lauretta does." We hied ourselves to a nearby resort and stood by the news ticker to see what would happen to Annie. It was half an hour since the third race had been reported. "Fourth race--tick--tick--tick," it came. "A--Al----," "We've lost!" I cried. "A--AL--ALPENA first."