Privately, Henry had always considered Mr. Mix as a genial poseur, but he knew that Mr. Mix belonged to the Citizens Club, which was the local standard, and that for thirty years he had been on rather intimate business relations with Mr. Starkweather. This was sufficient recommendation for Henry, in the swirl of his agitation, to loose his tongue.
"All right," he said. "Tell me how soon I can sell this overgrown magic-lantern outfit--and what I can get for it--and where I can put the money to bring in the biggest income--and where I can get a good job."
Now all this was intended to be purely in the nature of a rhetorical question: for naturally, if Henry decided to sell, he would want Bob Standish to handle the transaction for him, and to get the commission: and also, if Henry had to find employment, he would go to his friend, and be sure of a cordial reception. But Mr. Mix took it literally.
Mr. Mix started, and his memory began to unfold. It was on the tip of his tongue to blurt out: "And lose your shot at the estate?" but he restrained himself. He wasn't supposed to know the circumstances, and as a matter of fact, as he realized with a thrill of relish, he was probably the only outsider who _did_ know the circumstances. "Why," said Mr. Mix. "Do you own the Orpheum? Well, I should say offhand it's worth a good deal. Twenty thousand. The land, you know: the building's no good."
Henry nodded impatiently. "Yes, but who'd buy it?"
"Well, now, about _that_--of course, I'm not a real estate man--but you could certainly _trade_ it."
Mr. Mix caught the note of sincerity in Henry's voice, and Mr. Mix thought rapidly. He appeared to deliberate, to waver, to burn his bridges. "Well--say for a third interest in Theodore Mix and Company."
Mr. Mix almost fell over backwards. "Why, yes. It's sudden, but ... why, yes. I could use more capital, and I want a crack salesman. I'll trade--if you're quick on the trigger. I've got two or three people interested so far, but when it's _you_--"
Henry took him by the arm. "Come on over to the Citizens Club, then, and we'll talk about it."
When Henry went home to his wife and his father-in-law, he was confident that he had a very fine bargain; when he told them what he had heard from his aunt and Mr. Archer, what he had seen with his own eyes, and what he had done with Mr. Mix, he expected first, sympathy, and afterwards, unqualified approval. Within the next five minutes, however, Henry was sitting limp and baffled; and wishing that he had Bob Standish to support him. Bob, at least, would understand.