“‘When I saw him he’d just won a bet of 10，000 with aSteel Corporation man that there’d be four suicides in theAllegheny rolling mills to-day. So everybody in sight hadto walk up and have drinks on him. He took a fancy to meand asked me to dinner with him. We went to a restaurantin Diamond alley and sat on stools and had a sparklingMoselle and clam chowder and apple fritters.
“‘Then he wanted to show me his bachelor apartment onLiberty street. He’s got ten rooms over a fish market withprivilege of the bath on the next floor above. He told meit cost him 18，000 to furnish his apartment， and I believeit.
“‘He’s got 40，000 worth of pictures in one room， and20，000 worth of curios and antiques in another. Hisname’s Scudder， and he’s 45， and taking lessons on thepiano and 15，000 barrels of oil a day out of his wells.’
“‘All right，’ says I. ‘Preliminary canter satisfactory. But，kay vooly， voo？ What good is the art junk to us？ And theoil？’
“‘Now， that man，’ says Andy， sitting thoughtfully on thebed， ‘ain’t what you would call an ordinary scutt. When hewas showing me his cabinet of art curios his face lightedup like the door of a coke oven. He says that if some of hisbig deals go through he’ll make J. P. Morgan’s collection ofsweatshop tapestry and Augusta， Me.， beadwork look likethe contents of an ostrich’s craw thrown on a screen by amagic lantern.
“‘And then he showed me a little carving，’ went onAndy， ‘that anybody could see was a wonderful thing. Itwas something like 2，000 years old， he said. It was a lotusflower with a woman’s face in it carved out of a solid pieceof ivory.
“Scudder looks it up in a catalogue and describes it. AnEgyptian carver named Khafra made two of ’em for KingRameses II. about the year B.C. The other one can’t befound. The junkshops and antique bugs have rubberedall Europe for it， but it seems to be out of stock. Scudderpaid 2，000 for the one he has.’
“‘Oh， well，’ says I， ‘this sounds like the purling of a rillto me. I thought we came here to teach the millionairesbusiness， instead of learning art from ’em？’
“‘Be patient，’ says Andy， kindly. ‘Maybe we will see a riftin the smoke ere long.’
“All the next morning Andy was out. I didn’t see himuntil about noon. He came to the hotel and called me intohis room across the hall. He pulled a roundish bundle aboutas big as a goose egg out of his pocket and unwrappedit. It was an ivory carving just as he had described themillionaire’s to me.
“‘I went in an old second hand store and pawnshop awhile ago，’ says Andy， ‘and I see this half hidden under alot of old daggers and truck. The pawnbroker said he’d hadit several years and thinks it was soaked by some Arabs orTurks or some foreign dubs that used to live down by theriver.
“‘I offered him 2 for it， and I must have looked like Iwanted it， for he said it would be taking the pumpernickelout of his children’s mouths to hold any conversation thatdid not lead up to a price of 35. I finally got it for 25.
“‘Jeff，’ goes on Andy， ‘this is the exact counterpart ofScudder’s carving. It’s absolutely a dead ringer for it. He’llpay 2，000 for it as quick as he’d tuck a napkin underhis chin. And why shouldn’t it be the genuine other one，anyhow， that the old gypsy whittled out？’
“‘Why not， indeed？’ says I. ‘And how shall we go aboutcompelling him to make a voluntary purchase of it？’
“Andy had his plan all ready， and I’ll tell you how wecarried it out.
“I got a pair of blue spectacles， put on my black frockcoat， rumpled my hair up and became Prof. Pickleman.
I went to another hotel， registered， and sent a telegramto Scudder to come to see me at once on important artbusiness. The elevator dumped him on me in less than anhour. He was a foggy man with a clarion voice， smelling ofConnecticut wrappers and naphtha.
“‘Hello， Profess！’ he shouts. ‘How’s your conduct？’
“I rumpled my hair some more and gave him a blue glassstare.
“‘Sir，’ says I， ‘are you Cornelius T. Scudder？ Of Pittsburg，Pennsylvania？’
“‘I am，’ says he. ‘Come out and have a drink.’
“‘I’ve neither the time nor the desire，’ says I， ‘for suchharmful and deleterious amusements. I have come fromNew York，’ says I， ‘on a matter of busi—on a matter of art.’
“‘I learned there that you are the owner of an Egyptianivory carving of the time of Rameses II.， representing thehead of Queen Isis in a lotus flower. There were only twoof such carvings made. One has been lost for many years.
I recently discovered and purchased the other in a pawn—in an obscure museum in Vienna. I wish to purchase yours.
Name your price.’
“‘Well， the great ice jams， Profess！’ says Scudder. ‘Haveyou found the other one？ Me sell？ No. I don’t guessCornelius Scudder needs to sell anything that he wants tokeep. Have you got the carving with you， Profess？’
“I shows it to Scudder. He examines it careful all over.
“‘It’s the article，’ says he. ‘It’s a duplicate of mine， everyline and curve of it. Tell you what I’ll do，’ he says. ‘I won’tsell， but I’ll buy. Give you 2，500 for yours.’
“‘Since you won’t sell， I will，’ says I. ‘Large bills， please.
I’m a man of few words. I must return to New York tonight.
I lecture to-morrow at the aquarium.’
“Scudder sends a check down and the hotel cashes it.
He goes off with his piece of antiquity and I hurry back toAndy’s hotel， according to arrangement.
“Andy is walking up and down the room looking at hiswatch.
“‘Well？’ he says.
“‘Twenty-five hundred，’ says I. ‘Cash.’
“‘We’ve got just eleven minutes，’ says Andy， ’to catch theB. & O. westbound. Grab your baggage.’
“‘What’s the hurry，’ says I. ‘It was a square deal. Andeven if it was only an imitation of the original carving it’lltake him some time to find it out. He seemed to be sure itwas the genuine article.’
“‘It was，’ says Andy. ‘It was his own. When I was lookingat his curios yesterday he stepped out of the room for amoment and I pocketed it. Now， will you pick up your suitcase and hurry？’
“‘Then，’ says I， ‘why was that story about finding anotherone in the pawn—’
“‘Oh，’ says Andy， ‘out of respect for that conscience ofyours. Come on.’”
