The clerk turned, his mouth twisted awry to a malicious grin.

"Trust you!" he chuckled admiringly, and laid a confidential finger
beside his crooked nose. "Ho ho! This is the third time you've sold the
Watkins Farm; and it won't be the last! Oh, you're a rare one, you are!
Four farms you've got, and the way you got 'em ho! You go Old Benjamin
one better, you do.

"Who so by the plow would thrive
Himself must neither hold nor drive.

"A regular hard driver, you are!"

"Some fine day," answered Mitchell composedly, "you will exhaust my
patience and I shall have to let you be hanged!"

"No fear!" rejoined the devil clerk, amiably. "I'm too useful. I do your
dirty work for you and leave you always with clean hands to show. Who
stirs up damage suits? Joe. Who digs up the willing witness? J. Pelman.
Who finds skeletons in respectable closets? Joey. Who is the go-between?
Joseph. I'm trusty too, because I dare not be otherwise. And because
I like the work. I like to see you skin 'em, I do. Fools! And because you
give me a fair share of the plunder. Princely, I call it--and wise. You
be advised, Lawyer Mitchell, and always give me my fair share. Hang Joey?
Oh, no! Never do! No fear!" A spasm of chuckles cut him short.

"Go on, fool, and bring Bowen in. Then tell Walters the farm is already
sold."