“Oh, young men will be young men, I suppose,” sighed Mitchell tolerantly.  “Tell you what.  Archibald’s going for a spin over to East New York.  I’ll just ’phone him to drop by on his way and take us along.  Fresh air’ll do you good.”

Steve assented, and fell to poring over the immense wall map of New York with preternatural gravity.

But Mitchell’s benevolent plan was doomed to be frustrated.  Hardly had Archibald arrived and the employees been dismissed, when the sordid, busy, money-making city intruded in the person of Loring.

There were merry greetings all around.  The artist was much pleased to renew his acquaintance with Thompson, to whom he had taken a fancy.  Loring, it seemed, was an old friend of Archibald’s and was promptly invited to make one of the party.

“Oh, I can’t,” demurred Loring.  “And I hate to spoil sport, but I’ve got a good thing which must be put through to-night or not at all.  I ran in to get Mitchell to handle it for me.  I’ve got the opportunity, but not the wherewithal.”  He made the candid admission with a delightful smile.

“I fear that you are leaning on a mighty nearly broken reed,” said Mitchell.  “I’m all tied up in money matters this week.  But spit it out, anyhow.  I’ve got six or seven thousand loose.  If it’s more than that perhaps Archie can swing it—­if it’s a safe proposition.”

“Safe as United States bonds, and good for thirty per cent, profit.  Come back, Thompson!” Steve was making for the door, with apologies.  “You’re not in the way a bit.  Sit down, man!  Your six thousand won’t be a starter, Joe.  I’ve got some four thousand myself, in red, red gold.  All I have in the world—­wish it was more.”  His blithe insouciance was irresistibly charming.

“Get down to business, old fellow,” said Archibald.  “What’s the lay?”

“This is all confidential, between gentlemen, you understand?” All nodded.  “You know young Post is in hiding?  Well, I’ve been in touch with him all along.  He’s tired of skulking and wants me to sell that house his mother left him, strictly on the Q.T.  He’s got a chance to slip away on a private yacht to-night.  Said I could have all I could get over thirty thousand.  It’s worth fifty, at least.  I know where I could get forty-five, but I dare not approach those people now, because they are unfriendly to Post and would make him trouble.  Once he is safely away——­” He waved his hand.

“That ought to be a good thing,” said Archibald thoughtfully.  “It rents for six thousand a year, and values going up.  I’ve a good mind to go into it for a permanent investment.  Let’s see—­he’d want spot cash, wouldn’t he?”

“Naturally.  Cash on the nail.  He could hardly afford to be identified, you know.”

“Can’t raise that much to-day,” said the shipowner.  “Maybe, by borrowing from my partner, I could get enough to pool with you and Mitchell.  What’s your proposition?  About cutting profits, I mean.”