The first view of the Certina building dashed Mr. McQuiggan’s suspicions; his inspection of his old friend’s superb office slew them painlessly.

“Is this all yours, Andy?  On the level?  Did you do it all on your own?”

“Every bit of it!  With my little pen-and-ink.  Take a look around the walls and you’ll see how.”

He seated himself at his desk and proceeded to jot down, with apparent carelessness, but in broad, sweeping lines, a type lay-out, while his guest passed from advertisement to advertisement, in increasing admiration.  Before Old Lame-Boy he paused, absolutely fascinated.

“I thought that’d get you,” exulted the host, who, between strokes of the creative pen had been watching him.

“I’ve seen it in the newspaper, but never connected it with you.  Being out of the medical line I lost interest.  Say, it’s a wonder!  Did it fetch ’em?”

“Fetch ’em?  It knocked ’em flat.  That picture’s the foundation of this business.  Talk about suggestion in advertising!  He’s a regular hypnotist, Old Lame-Boy is.  Plants the suggestion right in the small of your back, where we want it.  Why, Elpy, I’ve seen a man walk up to that picture on a bill-board as straight as you or me, take one good, long look, and go away hanging onto his kidneys, and squirming like a lizard.  Fact!  What do you think of that?  Genius, I call it:  just flat genius, to produce an effect like that with a few lines and a daub or two of color.”

“Some pull!” agreed Mr. McQuiggan, with professional approval.  “And then—­’Try Certina,’ eh?”

“For a starter and, for a finisher ‘Certina Cures.’  Shoves the bottle right into their hands.  The first bottle braces ’em.  They take another.  By the time they’ve had half a dozen, they love it.”

“Booze?”

“Sure!  Flavored and spiced up, nice and tasty.  Great for the temperance trade. And the best little repeater on the market.  Now take a look, Elpy.”

He tapped the end of his pen upon the rough sketch of the mining advertisement, which he had drafted.  Mr. McQuiggan bent over it in study, and fell a swift victim to the magic of the art.

“Why, that would make a wad of bills squirm out of the toe of a stockin’!  It’s new game to me.  I’ve always worked the personal touch.  But I’ll sure give it a try-out, Andy.”

“I guess it’s bad!” exulted the other.  “I guess I’ve lost the trick of tolling the good old dollars in!  Take this home and try it on your cash register!  Now, come around and meet the boy.”

Thus it was that Editor-in-Chief Harrington Surtaine, in the third week of his incumbency received a professional call from his father, and a companion from whose pockets bulged several sheets of paper.

“Shake hands with Mr. McQuiggan, Hal,” said the Doctor.  “Make a bow when you meet him, too.  He’s your first new business for the reformed ‘Clarion.’”