“Oh, the expedition doesn’t leave for two months yet.  But we must sign the contract a month beforehand.”

“To-day is the first of June; I promise to telegraph you yes or no this day month.  You have had me over in Europe eighteen months.  I’m tired of trains, and boats, and mules.  I’m going fishing.”

“Ah, bass!” murmured Cathewe from behind his journal.

“By the way, Hewitt,” said Fitzgerald, “have you ever heard of a chap called Karl Breitmann?”

“Yes,” answered Hewitt.  “Never met him personally, though.”

“I have,” joined in Cathewe quietly.  He laid down the Times.  “What do you know about him?”

“Met him in Paris last year.  Met him once before in Macedonia.  Dined with me in Paris.  Amazing lot of adventures.  Rather down on his luck, I should judge.”

“Couple of scars on his left cheek and a bit of the scalp gone; German student sort, rather good-looking, fine physique?”

“That’s the man.”

“I know him, but not very well.”  And Cathewe fumbled among the other newspapers.

“Dine with me to-night,” urged Hewitt.

“I’ll tell you what.  See that Italian over there with the statues?  I am going to buy him out; and if I don’t make a sale in half an hour, I’ll sign the dinner checks.”

“Done!”

“I’ll take half of that bet,” said Cathewe, rising.  “It will be cheap.”

Ten minutes later the two older men saw Fitzgerald hang the tray from his shoulders and take his position on the corner.

“I love that chap, Hewitt; he is what I always wanted to be, but couldn’t be.”  Cathewe pulled the drooping ends of his mustache.  “If he should write a novel, I’m afraid for your sake that it will be a good one.  Keep him busy.  Novel writing keeps a man indoors.  But don’t send him on any damn goose chase for the Pole.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he might discover it.  But, honestly, it’s so God-forsaken and cold and useless.  I have hunted musk-ox, and I know something about the place.  North Poling, as I call it, must be a man’s natural bent; otherwise you kill the best that’s in him.”

“Heaven on earth, will you look!  A policeman is arguing with him.”  Hewitt shook with laughter.

“But I bought him out,” protested Fitzgerald.  “There’s no law to prevent me selling these.”

“Oh, I’m wise.  We want no horse-play on this corner; no joyful college stunts,” roughly.

Fitzgerald saw that frankness must be his card, so he played it.  “Look here, do you see those two gentlemen in the window there?”

“The club?”

“Yes.  I made a wager that I could sell one of these statues in half an hour.  If you force me off I’ll lose a dinner.”

“Well, I’ll make a bargain with you.  You can stand here for half an hour; but if you open your mouth to a woman, I’ll run you in.  No fooling; I’m talking straight.  I’m going to see what your game is.”