be that, only you find you forgot to pay the Golden Rule Cash Store for the red-and-blue bunting, and they’re howling for their money like a wild-cat.  Yes, sir; that’s been the way of it with woman at the helium.  I wouldn’t wish to be a Belgian at all under present circumstances; but if I did have to be one I’d hate to think my regular meals was depending on any crooked work you ladies has done up to date.”

“You’d cheer me strangely,” I says, “only I been a diligent reader of history, and somehow I can’t just recall your name being connected up with any cataclysms of finance.  I don’t remember you ever starting one of these here panics—­or stopping one, for that matter.  I did hear that you’d had your pocket picked down to the San Francisco Fair.”

I was prodding him along, understand, so he’d flare up and tell me what his secret enterprise was that would make women’s operations look silly and feminine.  I seen his eyes kind of glisten when I said this about him being touched.

“That’s right,” he says.  “Some lad nicked me for my roll and my return ticket, and my gold watch and chain, and my horseshoe scarfpin with the diamonds in it.”

“You stood a lot of pawing over,” I says, “for a man that’s the keen financial genius you tell about being.  This lad must of been a new hand at it.  Likely he’d took lessons from a correspondence school.  At least, with you standing tied and blinded that way, a good professional one would have tried for your gold tooth—­or, anyway, your collar button.  I see your secret though,” I go on as sarcastically as possible:  “You got the lad’s address and you’re going to have him here Saturday night to glide among the throng and ply his evil trade.  Am I right or wrong?”

“You are not,” he says.  “I never thought of that.  But I won’t say you ain’t warm in your guess.  Yes, you certainly are warm, because what I’m going to do is just as dastardly, without being so darned illegal, except to an extent.”

Well, it was very exasperating, but that was all I could get out of him.  When I ask for details he just clams up.

“But, mark my words,” says the old smarty, “I’ll show you it takes brains in addition to woman’s wiles and artwork to make a decent clean-up in this little one-cylinder town.”

“If you just had a little more self-confidence,” I says, “you might of gone to the top; lack of faith in yourself is all that’s kept you back.  Too bad!”

“All right for you to kid me,” he says; “but I’d be almost willing to give you two dollars for every dollar that goes out of this hall Saturday night.”

Well, it was kind of pathetic and disgusting the way this poor old dub was leaning on his certainty; so I let him alone and went on about my work, thinking mebbe he really had framed up something crooked that would bring at least a few dollars to the cause.

Every time I met him for the next three days after that he’d be so puffed up, like a toad, with importance and low remarks about woman that, at last, I just ignored him, pretending I hadn’t the least curiosity about his evil secret.  It hurt his feelings when I quit pestering him about it, but he’d been outraging mine right along; so we split even.