"Sure!" says I, feelin' my temper'ture risin'. "Parties that had rather work for a pay envelope than choke their wives. I've met 'em. I've heard of your kind too, Egbert; but you're the first specimen I ever got real close to. And you're a bird! Mr. Gordon, shall I chuck him through the window, or help him downstairs with my toe?" "I wouldn't do either," says Pyramid. "In fact, I think I can make use of this young man." "Then you're welcome to him," says I. "Blaze ahead." "Much obliged," says Pyramid. "Now, Mr. Marston, what is the most reasonable sum, per month, that would allow you to carry out your idea of being a gentleman?" Egbert thinks that over a minute and then puts it at three hundred. "And would it conflict with those ideas," Pyramid goes on, "if you were required, say twice a week, to spend an hour in a private office, signing your name?" Egbert thinks he could stand that. "Very well, then," says Pyramid, producin' his checkbook and gettin' busy with the fountain pen, "here is your first month's salary in advance. Whenever you find it convenient during the week, report at my offices. Ask for Mr. Bradley. Yes, Bradley. That's all," and Pyramid lights up one of his torches as satisfied as though he'd just bought in a Senator. As for Egbert, he stows the check away, taps me on the shoulder, and remarks real friendly, "Well, professor, no hard feelings, I hope?" "Say, Eggie," says I, "seems to me I expressed myself once on that point, and I ain't had any sudden change of heart. If I was you I'd beat while the beatin's good." Egbert laughs; but he takes the advice. "Huh!" says I to Pyramid. "I expect that's your notion of making a funny play, eh!" "I'm no humorist, Shorty," says he. "Then what's the idea?" says I. "What do you mean?" "I never mean anything but cold, straight business," says he. "That's the only game worth playing." "So?" says I. "Then here's where you got let in bad with your eyes open. You heard him tell how useless he was?" "I did," says Pyramid; "but I always do my own appraising when I hire men. I anticipate finding Mr. Marston somewhat useful." And say, that's all I can get out of Pyramid on the subject; for when it comes to business, he's about as chatty over his plans as a hard shell clam on the suffragette question. I've known him to make some freak plans; but this move of pickin' out a yellow one like Egbert and rewardin' him as if he was a Carnegie medal winner beat anything he'd ever sprung yet. It's no bluff, either. I hears of this Marston gent sportin' around at the clubs, and it wa'n't until I accident'lly run across an item on the Wall Street page that I gets any more details. He shows up, if you please, as secretary of the Consolidated Holding Company that there's been so much talk about. I asks Pinckney what kind of an outfit that was; but he don't know. "Huh!" says I. "All I'd feel safe in givin' Egbert to hold for me would be one end of the Brooklyn Bridge."