"Lost him through the stupidity of Briggs," snapped McLaughlin.

Skinner nodded.

"We've been trying to get him back ever since, as you know. We sent our silver-tongued Browning out there. No good! Then Mr. Perkins went out.

Then I went out. All this you know."

The "cage man" nodded.

McLaughlin paused. "Skinner, we want _you_ to go out to St. Paul and get him back."

Skinner looked curiously from one partner to the other, but both seemed to be dead serious.

"But--I'm--I'm not a salesman," the "cage man" stammered.

"That's just it," said McLaughlin earnestly. "There must be something wrong with the policy or the method or the manners of our salesmen, and Mr. Perkins and I have thought about it till we're stale. We want to put a fresh mind on the job."

"Jackson's gone over to the Starr-Bacon folks. They do well by him. How am I going to pry him loose?" said Skinner.

"We'll do even better by him," said McLaughlin. "You know this business as well as I do, Skinner. I 'm darned if I don't think you know it better. You know how closely we can shave figures with our compet.i.tors, I don't care who they are. I 'm going to make you our minister plenipotentiary. Do as you please, only get Jackson. I don't care if you take a small loss. We can make it up later. But we want his business."

Skinner pondered a moment. "Really, Mr. McLaughlin, I don't know what to say. I'm very grateful to you for such confidence. I 'll do my best, sir."

"It'll take rare diplomacy, rare diplomacy, Skinner," McLaughlin warned.

"What kind of a man is Mr. Jackson?" Skinner asked presently. "I know him by his letters, but what kind of man is he to meet?"

"The worst curmudgeon west of Pittsburg," said McLaughlin. "He'll insult you, he'll abuse you, he might even threaten to a.s.sault you like he did me. But he's got a bank roll as big as Vesuvius--and you know what his business means to us. Take as much time as you like, spend as much money as you like, Skinner,--don't stint yourself,--but _get_ Jackson!"

"Have you any suggestions?" said Skinner.

"Not one--and if I had, I would n't offer it. I want you to use your wits in your own way, unhampered, unenc.u.mbered. It's up to you."

"When do you want me to go?"

"Business is business--the sooner the quicker!"

Skinner thought a moment. "Let's see--to-morrow's Sunday. I'll start Monday morning, if that is satisfactory."

"Fine!" said McLaughlin, rising and shaking hands with his cashier.

Skinner walked to the door, paused, then came halfway back. "What kind of a woman is Mrs. Jackson, Mr. McLaughlin?"

"Well," said McLaughlin, staggered by the question, "she don't handsome much and she ain't very young, if that's what you mean."

Skinner blushed. "I didn't mean it that way."

"The only thing I've got against Mrs. Jackson is she's a social climber,"

Perkins broke in.

"The only thing I 've got against her," said McLaughlin, "is--she don't climb. She wants to, but she don't."

"Is there any particular reason why she does n't climb?" said Skinner.

"Vulgar--ostentatiously vulgar," said McLaughlin.

Skinner smiled. He pondered a moment, then ventured, "Say, Mr.

McLaughlin, it'd be a big feather in my cap if I landed Jackson, wouldn't it?"

"One of the ostrich variety, my son,--seeing that the great auk is dead,"

said McLaughlin solemnly.

Skinner's voice faltered a bit. "You don't know, Mr. McLaughlin, and you, Mr. Perkins, how grateful I am for this opportunity. I--I--" He turned and left the room.

"It's pathetic, ain't it? I feel like a sneak, Perk," said McLaughlin.

"Pathetic, yes," said Perkins. "But it's for his good. If he's all right, we're vindicating him--if he is n't all right, we want to know it."

The "cage man" whistled softly to himself as he reflected that the awful day of confessing to Honey was deferred for an indefinite period. It was a respite. But what gave him profound satisfaction was the fact that McLaughlin and Perkins were beginning to realize that he could do something besides stand in a cage and count money. They had made him their plenipotentiary, McLaughlin said. Gad! That meant full power! By jingo! He kept on whistling, which was significant, for Skinner rarely whistled.

And for the first time in his career, when he smelt burning wood pulp and looked down at the line of messenger boys with a ready-made frown and caught the eyes of Mickey, the "littlest," smiling impudently at him, Skinner smiled back.

For the rest of the day, as Skinner sat in his cage, three things kept running through his head: he's a curmudgeon; she's a climber; and she _doesn't_ climb. From these three things the "cage man" subconsciously evolved a proposition:--

Three persons would go to St. Paul, named in order of their importance: First, Skinner's dress suit; second, Honey; and third, Skinner.

CHAPTER IX

SKINNER FISHES WITH A DIPLOMATIC HOOK

The first step in the scheme which Skinner had evolved for the reclamation of Willard Jackson, of St. Paul, Minnesota, was to be taken Sunday morning, after services, at the First Presbyterian Church of Meadeville, New Jersey.

Skinner had not told Honey he was going to take her on his trip West.

He would do that after church, if a certain important detail of his plan did not miscarry. Although he paid respectful attention to the sermon, Skinner's thoughts were at work on something not religious, and he was relieved when the doxology was finished and the blessing asked.

Unlike most of the others present, Skinner was in no hurry to leave.

Instead, he loitered in the aisle until Mrs. Stephen Colby overtook him on her way down from one of the front pews.

"Why, Mr. Skinner, this _is_ a surprise," exclaimed the social arbiter.

Then slyly, "There's some hope for you yet."

"I thought I'd come in and make my peace before embarking on a railroad journey," Skinner observed.

"Going away? Not for long, I hope."

"St. Paul. I'm not carrying a message from the Ephesians--just a business trip."

"St. Paul's very interesting."