“I thought you said you wouldn’t take it.” “I’m not the only man on earth.” “It’s the time—the time!” Pentecost regarded him from under his drooping eyelids. “You’re looking for a bunch of money?” he asked. “Yes—oh yes!” And Haworth turned and began to move about. “Look here,” Pentecost called out to him after a while. “Just to satisfy my curiosity, put an index to it!” “Index?” Haworth stopped and faced him. “What amount?” “I don’t know. A lot—thousands—I must have thousands.” “How many?” “All I can get—twenty. No, wait! More! Thirty—forty——” “The fool that would give you that isn’t born yet.” “How do you know? Wait! I’ve thought of something! I’ll go to the moving-picture men. They’ll take an interest—they’re bound to—the pictures are part of it—and they pay great prices—they pay thousands!” Moving-picture men! And the distracted young fellow was capable of doing it. Might get something out of them, too, if he happened to strike a crooked concern. “I don’t suppose you could wait a few days,” Pentecost mumbled in an uninterested sort of way. “There’s a bare chance I’ve thought of—though I doubt if it’s as good as the pictures at that.” (Of course he couldn’t appear to block the picture game. The price would go up on him—or would if the chap knew anything.) “For yourself?” Haworth asked, eagerly; for he’d got it firmly fixed in his mind that this man was the one choice on earth for the carrying out of his idea. Pentecost shook his head. “No,” he said, “but I’ve got a partner. I’ve known him to take a fling at something on his own account—if he took a fancy to it.” “Where is he?” “Pittsburgh—on business. He might be able to get here by Friday.” “Five days!” “Good man for you, too. Just his line. Done this sort of thing before.” “But you don’t know he’d take it! I can’t wait five days and then have him say no! I’ll try the pictures. There was a man here last week—wanted to take me working at the lathe—said he’d read about me in a paper. I know where he is. I’ll find him to-night!”