The Countess glanced up interestedly.

“That’s the way to look at it, friend, but how much you got on you?”

“Twenty-two dollars,” confessed Bean succinctly.

“Would you part from twenty, if you was told what you want to know?”

“Yes; I can’t stand that other thing any longer.”

The Countess narrowed her eyes briefly, then became animated.

“Say, listen here, friend!  That’s a little more delikit work than I been doin’, but they’s a party near here—­lemme see—­” She passed one of the plump white hands over her brow in the throes of recollection.  “I think his name is Professor Balthasar.  I ain’t ever met him, understand what I mean? but they say he’s a genuine wonder an’ no mistake; tell you anything right off the reel.  You set right there and lemme go see if I can’t call him up by telephone.”

She withdrew between the curtains, behind which she carefully pulled sliding doors.  Bean heard the murmur of her voice.

He waited anxiously.  His Napoleon self was already fading.  If only they would tell him something “good.”  Little he cared for the twenty dollars.  He could get along by borrowing seventeen-seventy-nine from Metzeger.  The voice still murmured.  Only the well-fitting doors prevented Bean from hearing something that would have been of interest to him.

“That you, Ed?” the Countess was saying.  “Listen here.  ‘Member th’ one I told you about, thinks he’s the original N.B.—­you know who—­well he’s a repeater; here now wantin’ t’ know who he was before then, who he was first y’understand.  An’ say, I ain’t got the right dope for that an’ I want you to get over here quick’s you can an’ give him about a ten-minute spiel.  Wha’s that?  Well, they’s twenty, an’ I split with you.  But listen here, Ed, I get the idee this party’s worth nursin’ along.  I dunno, something about him.  That’s why I’m tellin’ you.  I want it done right.  Course, I could do enough stallin’ muself t’ cop the twenty; tell him Julius Caesar or the King of China or somebody, but I ain’t got the follow-up, an’ you can’t tell how much he might be good for later.  Take my tip:  he’s a natural born believer.  Sure, twenty!  All right!”

The doors slid back and the Countess reappeared between the curtains.

“I’m ’fraid I’ll have to disappoint you,” she began.  “The Professer was called out t’ give some advice to one the Vandabilts.  But I got his private secatary on the wire an’ he’s gone out to chase him up.  We’ll haf to wait an’ see.”

Bean was sorry to be causing this trouble.

“Perhaps I better come another night.”

“No, you don’t!  You set right there!” She seemed to listen to unspoken words, looking far off.  “There!  My control says he’s comin’; he’s on the way.”

Bean was aghast before this power.

“’Nother thing,” pursued the Countess in her normal manner, “keep perfec’ly still when he comes.  Don’t tip him off what you want.  Let him do the talkin’.  If he’s the real thing he’ll know what you want.  They say he’s a wonder, but what do we know about it?  Let him prove it!”