"Got to do with it? Why, he's a regular missing link!" "Missing link?" Jackson looked at her in surprise. "Have you seen him?" "I don't mean that--I mean connecting link." "Some difference," Jackson grunted. "If you hadn't gone and broken with McLaughlin & Perkins, Inc." "That's enough. It's too late now. I don't want to hear anything more about it." Mrs. Jackson said nothing. She knew that silence at such a time was her most effective weapon. Jackson waited for her to speak, but as she did not speak he immediately felt sorry that he'd been short with her. She was the only person in the world he really cared for. But he must show no outward sign of weakness, so he repeated, "It's too late now, I tell you!" But, being a resourceful man, Jackson never considered anything too late. He would never take defeat for granted until he should be in his coffin. As a matter of fact, he had often regretted that he had broken with McLaughlin & Perkins, Inc. If it had n't been for that fresh salesman, Briggs, he never would have. And after he _had_ broken with them, his stupid obstinacy had stood in the way of resuming friendly relations, for McLaughlin & Perkins, Inc., had always delivered the goods. CHAPTER X SKINNER LANDS A CURMUDGEON With his head full of these reflections but without any definite method to accomplish a rather indefinite purpose, Jackson strolled into the lobby of The Hotel the next morning. "Who is this Skinner that was interviewed?" he asked the chief clerk, whom he had known for a long time. Glibly the clerk recounted to Jackson all he knew about their guest, who had suddenly become illustrious through the magic touch of the J. Matthews Wilkinsons. "Point him out to me," said Jackson. "I always like to look over these Eastern guys that know so much that ain't so about us Middle West people." "The Skinners don't get down to breakfast before ten," said the clerk. An hour later Jackson strolled in casually and took a chair opposite the desk. Here was an opportunity for the clerk, an opportunity which Jackson had arranged for him without his knowing it. He passed around from behind the desk and intercepted Skinner as he and Honey were about to step into the elevator. "Mr. Skinner," he said, "I'd like you to meet one of our prominent citizens." He led Skinner over to where the curmudgeon was sitting. "Mr. Skinner, I want you to shake hands with Mr. Willard Jackson." "How do you do, Mr. Skinner?" said Jackson, rather reservedly; for now that the game was going the way he had designed it should go, he wanted to make it appear that the clerk, and not he, had taken the initiative. "I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Jackson," said Skinner, with his accustomed cordiality. "I saw your little squib in the paper," said Jackson. "You must belong to the Boost Club." "It never does any harm to tell pleasant truths," said Skinner. Presently Jackson remarked, "You're with McLaughlin & Perkins, Inc., I see."