while. And the Colonel sold the Mayor his niece's automobile. It's
worth twenty-five hundred dollars, at least, and since old
Poundstone's finances will not permit such an extravagance, I'm
wondering how Pennington expects him to pay for it. I smell a rat as
big as a kangaroo. In this case two and two don't make four. They
make six! Guess I'll build a fire under old Poundstone."

He took down the telephone-receiver and called up the Mayor. "Bryce
Cardigan speaking, Mr. Poundstone," he greeted the chief executive of
Sequoia.

"Oh, hello, Bryce, my boy," Poundstone boomed affably. "How's
tricks?"

"So-so! I hear you've bought that sedan from Colonel Pennington's
niece. Wish I'd known it was for sale. I'd have outbid you. Want to
make a profit on your bargain?"

"No, not this morning, Bryce. I think we'll keep it. Mrs. P. has been
wanting a closed car for a long time, and when the Colonel offered me
this one at a bargain, I snapped it up. Couldn't afford a new one,
you know, but then this one's just as good as new."

"And you don't care to get rid of it at a profit?" Bryce repeated.

"No, sirree!"

"Oh, you're mistaken, Mr. Mayor. I think you do. I would suggest that
you take that car back to Pennington's garage and leave it there.
That would be the most profitable thing you could do."