"Now this is what you do, my boy," Fred gave me quick instruction in the hushed voice of a conspirator. "A minute or so after I leave you, you take your hat and coat and pass through the room where I’m talking to him. I won’t notice you. When you’re nearly at the door, I’ll call you back. You’ll be in a hurry, but you’ll come back. I’ll introduce you to Mr. Visconti, then I’ll say confidential-like, but loud enough for him to hear, ’You going out about those bonds?’ ’Yes,’ you answer, ’but I’ll be back soon.’ ’While you’re about it,’ I’ll say, ’you can tell Spifkins we can let him have that two-hundred thousand on call at four and three quarters.’ You just nod quickly, like a busy man, salute Mr. Visconti and out you go." "Where—do I go?" I stammered in a daze. "You go to a telephone booth downstairs in the lobby and you call me up on the wire. And don’t be surprised at anything I say until I hang up. Then you can walk round the block and come back. Is that clear?" "Clear as an asphalt pavement," I answered in my bewilderment. "That’s all right then," he grinned and left me. Complying with his absurd charge, nevertheless, I was duly introduced to the well-dressed, well-fed, deep-hued Italian banker from Macdougal Street and made my way to the telephone booth in the lobby of the building below. And this is what I heard in Fred’s most suave and ingratiating tone. "Oh, not at all, Mr. Ferris—always glad to hear from a customer. Ah—yes, Mr. Ferris. We can still let you have those bonds. Though in reality they are sold to another client. But I think we can give him something just as good that will suit him equally well. Yes, that will be all right. A hundred thousand, wasn’t it? Well, well—ha! ha! Better late than never. Don’t let that bother you. Yes, yes, Mr. Ferris. Send them over to your office as soon as my partner comes back. I am a little busy now with a customer. Oh, don’t mention it, don’t mention it! Eh? Why, yes—thanks. At the Waldorf about five, then. Ta-ta." And he hung up the receiver. For a moment I stood speechless in the steaming booth with the telephone receiver in my hands and then I staggered out, shaken by helpless laughter. When I returned, Visconti, smiling broadly, was in the process of being ushered out by Fred with warm exchanges of amiabilities. We all shook hands on the threshold in a cordial flurry of busy enthusiasm and a moment later Fred and I were alone. "Just sold that fine peach of a Guinea ten thousand dollars’ worth of Hesperus Power bonds," chuckled Fred in irrepressible glee. "But where," I demanded, "did you get the bonds to sell?" "Haven’t got them yet," he paced the room in nervous jubilation. "But we’ll get them in a jiffy—at the National City Bank. They’ve got lots of ’em over there." Something dark and heavy and cold seemed to have dropped inside of me upon the vital parts, and chilled me for an instant. "So this is this kind of a business?" I muttered.