Polly obligingly drove slowly around three sides of the huge new
terminal. Directly opposite the main entrance was a vacant plot of
ground, with a frontage of an entire block and a depth of four
hundred feet. Big white signs upon each corner told that it was for
sale by Mallard & Tyne. They stopped in front of this location,
while both Johnny and Polly ranged their eyes upward, by successive
steps, to the roof garden which surmounted the twentieth story of
Johnny's imaginary Terminal Hotel.

"It's a nifty-looking building, Johnny!" she complimented him as
they turned to each other with sheepish smiles.

"I'm going to tear it down and put up a better one," he briskly told
her. "I'll hand you a piece of private information. If the big
railroad company which built this terminal station doesn't own that
blank space it's a fool--and I don't think it is. If it does the
property will be held for ever for the increase in value. Let's look
at these other blocks. The buildings on the one next to it are worth
about a plugged nickel apiece--and that would make exactly as good a
location."

"But, Johnny; you couldn't build a hotel in forty days!"

"Build it! I don't want to. I only want to promote it."

"Does a promoter never build?" asked Polly.

"Not if he can escape," replied Johnny. "All a promoter ever wants
to do is to collect the first ninety-nine years' profits and promote