"I was thinking about the deaf and dumb man," she said slowly. "How about him, when we pull this off--will he stand for it--and what'll he do?" "Aw!" said Pale Face Harry impatiently. "He don't count! He'll have bats in his belfry anyway, and if he ain't he'll go off his chump for fair getting stuck on himself when he sees the stunt he'll think he's done. He'll be looking for the wings between his shoulder blades, and hunting for the halo around his head." "Harry is waking up," observed Doc Madison affably. "That's about the idea, Helena. I haven't seen the Patriarch yet, but I don't imagine from his description that it'll be very hard to make him believe in himself. He doesn't stand for anything--we don't deal him any cards--he's just the kitty that circles around with the jackpots while we annex the chips." Doc Madison reached into his vest pocket, took out a penknife whose handle was gold-chased, opened it, and very carefully cut the article he had read from the paper. "Flopper," said he, "you've heard of gold bonds, haven't you?" The Flopper's eyes gleamed an eloquent response. "Only you've never had any, eh?" supplied Doc Madison. "Where'd I get 'em?" inquired the Flopper, with some bitterness. "Right here," smiled Doc Madison, handing him the clipping. "Here's a trainload and a bank vault full of them combined. Put it away, Flopper, and don't lose it. Lose anything you've got first--lose your life. It's worth a private car to you with a buffet full of fizz, and Sambo to wait on you for the rest of your life. Get that? Don't lose it!" The Flopper tucked the clipping into the mysterious recess of his shirt. "Say," he said earnestly, "if you say so, Doc, it'll be here when dey plant me." "All right, Flopper," nodded Doc Madison. "And now let's get down to cases. I've been able to pay my club dues lately, and there's money enough on deck to buy the costumes and put the show on the road. I start for Needley as soon as I can get away. When I'm ready for the support, you three will hear from me--and in the meantime you lay low. Nothing doing--understand? You'll get all the lime-light you want before you're through, and it's just as well not to show up so familiar when they throw the spot on you that even the school kids will know the date of your birth, and the population will start in squabbling over the choice of reserved niches for you in the Hall of Fame. See?" The Flopper, Pale Face Harry and Helena nodded their heads with one accord. "Give us the whole lay, Doc," urged Pale Face Harry. "And give it to us quick." "Me mouth's waterin'," observed the Flopper, licking his lips again. Helena lighted another cigarette, and swung herself back to her perch on the head of the couch. Doc Madison surveyed the three with mingled admiration and delight. "The world is ours!" he murmured softly. "Oh, hurry up and give us the rest of it," purred Helena. "We know we're an all-star cast, all right."