“No doubt you’re right, Fred,” conceded Tetlow.  “But I’m afraid I haven’t the nerve.”

“Come in behind me.  I’ve got nerve for two—­now!”

At that triumphant “now” Tetlow looked curiously at his friend.  “Yes, it has changed you—­changed you back to what you were.  I don’t understand.”

“It isn’t necessary that you understand,” rejoined Norman.”

“Do you think you could really carry through that scheme you’ve just outlined?”

“I see it fascinates you.”

“I’ve no objection to rising to the class of big men,” said Tetlow.  “But aren’t you letting your confidence in yourself deceive you?”

“Did I ever let it deceive me?”

“No,” confessed Tetlow.  “I’ve often watched you, and thought you’d fall through it, or stumble at least.  But you never did.”

“And shall I tell you why?  Because I use my self-confidence and my hopefulness and all my optimistic qualities only to create an atmosphere of success.  But when it comes to planning a move of any kind, when I assemble my lieutenants round the council board in my brain, I never permit a single cheerful one to speak, or even to enter.  It’s a serious, gloomy circle of faces, Bill.”

Tetlow nodded reminiscently.  “Yes, you always were like that, Fred.”

“And the one who does the most talking at my council is the gloomiest of all.  He’s Lieutenant Flawpicker.  He can’t see any hope for anything.  He sees all the possibilities of failure.  He sees all the chances against success.  And what’s the result?  Why, when the council rises it has taken out of the plan every chance of mishap that my intelligence could foresee and it has provided not one but several safe lines of orderly retreat in case success proves impossible.”

Tetlow gazed at Norman in worshipful admiration.  “What a brain!  What a mind!” he ejaculated.  “And to think that you could be upset by a woman!”

Norman leaned back in his chair smiling broadly.  “Not by a woman,” he corrected.  “By a girl—­an inexperienced girl of twenty.”

“It seems incredible.”

“A grain of dust, dropped into a watch movement in just the right place—­you know what happens.”

Tetlow nodded.  Then, with a sharp, anxious look, “But it’s all over?”

Norman hesitated.  “I believe so,” he said.

Tetlow rose and rubbed his thighs.  He had been sitting long in the same position, and he was now stout enough to suffer from fat man’s cramp.  “Well,” said he, “we needn’t bother about that Universal Fuel scheme at present.  I can guarantee you the three thousand dollars, and the other things.”

Norman shook his head.  “Not enough,” he said.

“You want more money?”

“No.  But I will not work, or rather, wait, in the dark.  Tell your principals that I must be let in.”

Tetlow hesitated, walking about the office.  Finally he said, “Look here, Fred—­you think I deceived you the other day—­posed as your friend when in reality I was simply acting as agent for people who wanted you.”