With pretended nervousness Ford leaned forward and began the story he had rehearsed. It was a new version of an old swindle and to every self-respecting confidence man was well known as the “sick engineer” game. The plot is very simple. The sick engineer is supposed to be a mining engineer who, as an expert, has examined a gold mine and reported against it. For his services the company paid him partly in stock. He falls ill and is at the point of death. While he has been ill much gold has been found in the mine he examined, and the stock which he considers worthless is now valuable. Of this, owing to his illness, he is ignorant. One confidence man acts the part of the sick engineer, and the other that of a broker who knows the engineer possesses the stock but has no money with which to purchase it from him. For a share of the stock he offers to tell the dupe where it and the engineer can be found. They visit the man, apparently at the point of death, and the dupe gives him money for his stock. Later the dupe finds the stock is worthless, and the supposed engineer and the supposed broker divide the money he paid for it. In telling the story Ford pretended he was the broker and that he thought in Ashton he had found a dupe who would buy the stock from the sick engineer. As the story unfolded and Ashton appreciated the part Ford expected him to play in it, his emotions were so varied that he was in danger of apoplexy. Amusement, joy, chagrin, and indignation illuminated his countenance. His cigar ceased to burn, and with his eyes opened wide he regarded Ford in pitying wonder. “Wait!” he commanded. He shook his head uncomprehendingly. “Tell me,” he asked, “do I look as easy as that, or are you just naturally foolish?” Ford pretended to fall into a state of great alarm. “I don’t understand,” he stammered. “Why, son,” exclaimed Ashton kindly, “I was taught that story in the public schools. I invented it. I stopped using it before you cut your teeth. Gee!” he exclaimed delightedly. “I knew I had grown respectable-looking, but I didn’t think I was so damned respectable-looking as that!” He began to laugh silently; so greatly was he amused that the tears shone in his eyes and his shoulders shook. “I’m sorry for you, son,” he protested, “but that’s the funniest thing that’s come my way in two years. And you buying me hot-house grapes, too, and fancy water! I wish you could see your face,” he taunted. Ford pretended to be greatly chagrined. “All right,” he declared roughly. “The laugh’s on me this time, but just because I lost one trick, don’t think I don’t know my business. Now that I’m wise to what YOU are we can work together and--” The face of young Mr. Ashton became instantly grave. His jaws snapped like a trap. When he spoke his tone was assured and slightly contemptuous. “Not with ME you can’t work!” he said. “Don’t think because I fell down on this,” Ford began hotly.