The great entrance hall showed a marked change since their visit of ten days before. Several worn chairs stood about and a long table was pushed up against the north wall—doubtless stuff that wouldn’t sell and had been stored in other rooms or the attic. But the most noticeable thing in the place was a huge edifice in the form of a crate, measuring something like five feet in height. Between the slats and timbers of this enormous cage could be seen machinery of heavy build, and such parts as were discernible plainly indicated to a person of sufficient mechanical enlightenment that it was an engine of some kind. Pentecost walked over to the great slatted box and glanced at what was visible within, then followed the two others of his party, who had gone into the room on the left,—the door of which James Dreek was holding open for him. Haworth was shaking hands with Harker and Alfred as he entered, and he did the same with Pentecost as he approached; and as the latter asked him how he was feeling, the faint smile that meant so much lighted his face for an instant as he answered in a low voice, “Rather worn-out waiting, Mr. Pentecost.” “We had to take all the time the option allowed us, Mr. Haworth, but we’re here within the limit and can go on whenever you say the word.” “Consider the word said,” was Haworth’s quiet answer. Upon which Mr. Harker took the papers from a document case and tossed them on the table. The contract, though not long, took some little time to go through, for Harker was at pains to explain each point; and you could see that Haworth was growing restless and was eager to come to the clause dealing with the amount of money which the firm was to pay him. When Harker—it was toward the end—read out that the amount to be paid to the party of the first part upon the signing of this contract was the sum of fifteen thousand dollars, and was going on with slight acceleration of speed to the next clause, Haworth said, very quietly: “Wait a minute, please. That’s a mistake.” “Mistake? How so?” from Harker—simulating surprise. “You said fifteen thousand. It should be forty-five.” What might be called a telling pause followed, the idea being that the partners were struck dumb with astonishment. “Forty-five what?” Harker finally managed to inquire. “Thousand,” Haworth answered in his gentle voice. “Where in God’s name did you get the notion that we are going to give you such a figure as that? Why you’re crazy! We never agreed to any such ridiculous price—never in this world!” “Excuse me. Your partner”—indicating Pentecost—“said the amount would be one that was satisfactory to me. That’s the one that is. I’ve found I need it.”