Matt. And I recall now that I was reminded by you, Matthew, my son, that
I had retired ten years ago and please, would I quit interfering in the
internal administration of your office."

"Well, I must admit your far-sightedness in that instance will keep the
Shanghai office out of the red ink this year," Matt Peasley replied.
"However, we face this situation, Cappy. Henderson has drunk and gambled
and signed chits in excess of his salary. He hasn't attended to business
and he's capped his inefficiency by absconding with our bank account. We
couldn't foresee that. When we send a man out to the Orient to be our
manager there, we have to trust him all the way or not at all. So there
is no use weeping over spilled milk, Cappy. Our job is to select a
successor to Henderson and send him out to Shanghai on the next boat."

"Oh, very well, Matt," Cappy replied magnanimously, "I'll not rub it
into you. I suppose I'm far from generous, bawling you out like this.
Perhaps, when you're my age and have a lot of mental and moral cripples
nip you and draw blood as often as they've drawn it on me you'll be a
better judge than I of men worthy of the weight of responsibility.
Skinner, have you got a candidate for this job?"

"I regret to say, sir, I have not. All of the men in my department are
quite young--too young for the responsibility."

"What do you mean--young?" Cappy blazed.

"Well, the only man I would consider for the job is Andrews and he is
too young--about thirty, I should say."

"About thirty, eh? Strikes me you were about twenty-eight when I threw