"How can I win out $3,500 in seven weeks, I'd like to know!" Bunch
moaned.

"A cincherine," I came back. "I've got a scheme cooking that will
put you and me all to the splendid in short order."

"Yes, but these schemes of yours sometimes get nervous
prostration," Bunch began to fret.

"Sush, now!" I said; "this is the real goods. It can't go wrong.
It's just like getting money from Carnegie. I've discovered a
genius."

"A genius!" Bunch repeated; "what kind of a genius?"

"His name is Signor Beppo Petroskinski, an Illusionist," I
answered. "And he's aces."

"What does he do?" asked Bunch; "spar eight rounds with the piano
or sell Persian rugs?"

"Nix on the hurry talk, Bunch," I said. "Petroskinski is a
discovery of mine, and he's all to the mustard. He's an
Illusionist, and he can pull off some of the best tricks I ever
blinked at. Say, he has Hermann and Keller and all those guys
backed up in a corner yelling for help. Skinski is our mint, and
we're going to take him out over the one-night stands and drag a
fortune away from Mr. and Mrs. Reub."