“And Jimmy told it to me that same afternoon,” the office manager went on; he felt the circumstances justified this slight inaccuracy. “So you can see it’s a cinch where the idea originated, Mr. Merkle.” They compared notes still further. When the chemist mentioned that he and Hope were to interview Mr. Wentworth the next afternoon as soon as he returned from out of town, the office manager went up in the air. “And we were going to let it go till Wednesday or Thursday!” Mr. Cooper whistled as he thought of their narrow escape. For if Hope had broached the subject first and claimed the idea as his own, it might have been difficult to disprove him. How lucky they had gotten hold of Merkle this particular morning! And how lucky, too, that the chemist was sore at Hope—and that he had jotted down the date of his first conversation with the secretary about the scheme. Mr. Cooper brought his fist down on the desk with a thump. “We’ll give this guy a run for his money. We’ll see the boss Tuesday afternoon, right when he does, dammit, and have it out then and there. The point is, Merkle, where do you stand?” Mr. Merkle had decided that some minutes before. He was not by nature entirely averse to a crooked business deal—if it were not too crooked. But he had learned from experience that the best place to be, if you could choose, was on the winning side. And in this particular case his judgment told him very clearly which side that was. “With you,” said Mr. Merkle succinctly. “You could count on me.” CHAPTER VII. JIMMY PLAYS TRUMPS. The unpleasant scene that fate seemed preparing for Mr. Wentworth in his office that Tuesday afternoon was avoided by the president’s unexpected return on Tuesday morning. Mr. Leffingwell Hope, with his plans all carefully laid, had taken advantage of his employer’s supposed absence, and stayed away on business of his own. These two occurrences caused an eleventh-hour change in the plans of Jimmy and the office manager. Jimmy was for avoiding trouble if it were possible. “Why not go right ahead now, just as if Hope wasn’t in this at all?” he urged. They talked it over, and decided that would be the better way. “He’ll have a fine chance coming along all alone after us.” Jimmy chuckled at the prospect. “Let’s do it right now, George, if we can see Mr. Wentworth.” Mr. Wentworth would see them in half an hour. Then they hastily phoned Merkle; the chemist promised to hurry right down. That half-hour of waiting was the hardest of Jimmy’s life. He went over, seemingly for the hundredth time, all he planned to say to Mr. Wentworth; and he chewed down all his finger-nails. It was decided Jimmy was to do most of the talking; he wanted it that way; wanted to put the idea over himself. The half-hour seemed interminable; but it was over at last, and again Jimmy found himself in the president’s office ready to tell his big idea.