"Oh, thank you," said Lulu. "I’m afraid it ain’t worth that much. He gave me a dollar himself, though I don’t charge but four bits, usually." "Lord, what a fool!" said Vixley, watching her go out. "That girl won’t ever get nowhere, she’s too innocent. She knows no more about real life than a boiled egg." "She’s all right for me, though," Madam Spoll replied. "That’s just the kind I need in my business. She fools ’em every time. They ain’t nothing like a good blusher for a stool-pigeon, you take my word for it. Lulu’s all right in her place." She turned to wash her hands at a bowl in the corner. "Well," said Vixley, crossing his legs, "are you coming in with us, Frank?" "It looks pretty good to me, so far. But it depends. What have you got about Payson, anyway?" Granthope’s tone was languid. Madam Spoll winked at Vixley, as she wiped her hands behind the palmist’s back. "Why," Vixley replied, "Payson’s in wool and is director of a bank, besides. He’s a square-head with a high forehead, and them are easy. Gertie, here, can get him into a private sittin’, and when she does, you leave him to her—she’ll find a way all right. She don’t do no lumpy work, Gertie don’t, you know that, all right! When she passes him along to me, I’ll manage him like the way we worked Bennett with the real estate. I’d like another chance as good as him." "You just wait," said Madam Spoll. "I got a hunch that this Payson is going to be pretty good pie; and we got a good strong combination, Frank, if you want to do your share." "It’s a pity Spoll ain’t got some of Gertie’s gumption," said Vixley, smiling with approval at his partner. "Don’t you make no mistake about Spoll—he’s done some good work on Payson already." The Madam was adjusting her waist before the glass and coquetting with her hair. "The trouble with you, Vixley, is that you ain’t got no executive ability—I’m going to organize this game myself. I can see a way to use Spoll and Ringa, and Flora, too. We want to go into this thing big. Payson’s a keener bird than Bennett was, but they’s more in him." "So Spoll has begun, has he?" Granthope asked. "Yes. He located the Paysons over on North Beach." "I know that much already. The mother’s dead. Mr. and Miss Payson have traveled abroad. What else do you know about her?" "Why, it seems she’s the sole heir. Good news for you, eh? High society, too—Flower Mission, Kitchen Garden, Friday Cotillions, Burlingame, everything. She could help you, Frank, if you got on the right side of her." Here Mr. Spoll tiptoed in, bowed to Granthope, and said: "Eight o’clock, Gertie." Madam Spoll arose cumbrously, took a last peep in the mirror of the folding bed and turned into the hall, saying, "You take my advice, Frank. We depend upon you. See what you can do with the girl." She paused to bend a keen glance upon him. "What did you do with her, anyway?"