"No, Smith; her undeniably attractive features and her--ah--winning
personality had nothing whatever to do with it. Buy the tickets and I'll
tell you all about it."

Smith bought two tickets. A north bound train roared into the station.
The young men stepped aboard, seated themselves, depositing their
suitcases at their feet.

"Now what about that winning-looker who really didn't interest you?"
suggested Smith in tones made slightly acid by memory of his half hour
waiting.

"Smith, it was a most unusual episode. I was just leaving the office to
keep my appointment with you when Snuyder came in with a card----"

"You've said that already."

"But I didn't tell you what was on that card, did I?"

"I can guess."

"No, you can't. Her name was not on the card. She was not an agent; she
had nothing to sell; she didn't want a position; she didn't ask for a
subscription to anything. And what do you suppose was on that card?"

"Well, what was on the card, for the love of Mike?" snapped Smith. "I'll
tell you. The card seemed to be an ordinary visiting card; but down in
one corner was a tiny and beautifully drawn picture of a green mouse."