"Then I'll tell you--"

Duncan placed a pleading hand on his forearm. "Don't kid me, Harry," he
entreated.

"Not a bit of it. This is straight goods. If you want to try it and
will follow the rules I lay down, I'll guarantee you'll be a rich man
inside of twelve months."

"Rules! Man, I'll follow all the rules in the world! Come on--I'm
getting palpitation of the heart, waiting. Tell it to me: what've I got
to do?"

"Marry," said Kellogg serenely.

"Marry!" Duncan echoed, aghast.

"Marry," reaffirmed the other with unbroken gravity.

"Marry--who?"

"A girl with a fortune.... You see, I can't guarantee the precise size
of her pile. That all depends on luck and the locality. But it'll run
anywhere from several hundred thousand up to a million--perhaps more."

Duncan sank back despondently. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself,
Harry," he said dully; "you had me all excited, for a minute."

"No, but honestly, I mean what I say."