"None whatever."

I had thus far been able to get no hint of his purposes. If I had not
known what I knew, I should have supposed that his mind was
concentrated on the apparent object before him--to secure the zeal and
fidelity of an employee in some important business operation.

"And what am I to do?" I asked.

"Be a capitalist," he said with an ironical smile. "Buy and sell what I
tell you to buy and sell. Keep under cover, but not too much under
cover. You can pick your own brokers. Better begin with Bockstein and
Eppner, though. Your checks will be honored at the Nevada Bank. Oh,
here's a cipher, in case I want to write you. I suppose you'll want
some ready money."

Doddridge Knapp was certainly a liberal provider, for he shoved a
handful of twenty-dollar gold pieces across the desk in a way that made
my eyes open.

"By the way," he continued, "I don't think I have your signature, have
I?"

"No, sir," I replied with prompt confidence.

"Well, just write it on this slip then. I'll turn it into the bank for
your identification. You can take this check-book with you."

"Anything more?"