“Yes, sir!” said Jock, and stood before him in the same moment.

“Mr. Griebler is looking for a competent, enthusiastic, hard-working man as advertising manager.  I’ve spoken to him of you.  I know what you can do.  Mr. Griebler might trust my judgment in this, but—­”

“I’ll trust my own judgment,” snapped Ben Griebler.  “It’s good enough for me.”

“Very well,” returned Bartholomew Berg suavely.  “And if you decide to place your advertising future in the hands of the Berg, Shriner Company—­”

“Now look here,” interrupted Ben Griebler again.  “I’ll tie up with you people when you’ve shaken something out of your cuffs.  I’m not the kind that buys a pig in a poke.  We’re going to spend money—­real money—­in this campaign of ours.  But I’m not such a come-on as to hand you half a million or so and get a promise in return.  I want your plans, and I want ’em in full.”

A little exclamation broke from Sam Hupp.  He checked it, but not before Berg’s curiously penetrating pale blue eyes had glanced up at him, and away again.

“I’ve told you, Mr. Griebler,” went on Bartholomew Berg’s patient voice, “just why the thing you insist on is impossible.  This firm does not submit advance copy.  Every business commission that comes to us is given all the skill, and thought, and enthusiasm, and careful planning that this office is capable of.  You know our record.  This is a business of ideas.  And ideas are too precious, too perishable, to spread in the market place for all to see.”

Ben Griebler stood up.  His cigar waggled furiously between his lips as he talked.

“I know something else that don’t stand spreading in the market place, Berg.  And that’s money.  It’s too darned perishable, too.”  He pointed a stubby finger at Jock.  “Does this fool rule of yours apply to this young fellow, too?”

Bartholomew Berg seemed to grow more patient, more self-contained as the other man’s self-control slipped rapidly away.

“It goes for every man and woman in this office, Mr. Griebler.  This young chap, McChesney here, might spend weeks and months building up a comprehensive advertising plan for you.  He’d spend those weeks studying your business from every possible angle.  Perhaps it would be a plan that would require a year of waiting before the actual advertising began to appear.  And then you might lose faith in the plan.  A waiting game is a hard game to play.  Some other man’s idea, that promised quicker action, might appeal to you.  And when it appeared we’d very likely find our own original idea incorporated in—­”

“Say, look here!” squeaked Ben Griebler, his face dully red.  “D’you mean to imply that I’d steal your plan!  D’you mean to sit there and tell me to my face—­”

“Mr. Griebler, I mean that that thing happens constantly in this business.  We’re almost powerless to stop it.  Nothing spreads quicker than a new idea.  Compared to it a woman’s secret is a sealed book.”