He was about to accost¹ the fellow, but suddenly changed his mind, and passed on to the dining car without letting the rascal² catch sight of his face.

 

“When will this train make the next stop?” he asked of a train hand.

 

The man consulted his watch.

 

“In about two hours and a half.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Frank sat down to his breakfast in a corner of the dining car. He had scarcely begun eating when Gabe Flecker came in, accompanied by a man who looked to be a Southern planter. The pair went to the table next to the one our hero occupied, and Flecker sat down with his back directly behind that of the young book agent.

 

“Yes, Mr. Lee, this real-estate deal will make you a rich man,” Frank heard Flecker remark, during the course of the meal. “It is really one chance out of a hundred.”

 

“You are certain that the property is free and clear?” questioned the planter.

 

“Perfectly clear, sir—I’ll give you my personal guarantee.”

 

“And you are authorized³ to sell the land for eight thousand dollars?”

 

“That’s the figure—providing I can get a customer this week. You see, the family need ready money, otherwise they would hold out for ten or fifteen thousand dollars. It’s a snap—the biggest snap I ever heard of,” went on Gabe Flecker, glibly⁴.

 

“It is certainly a low figure,” replied Mr. Lee. “Colonel Moss⁵ wanted to buy the place three years ago, and they asked sixteen thousand dollars.”

 

“Then you will take the property?”

 

“I reckon I will. I’ll think it over first, though.”

 

“You had better make a deposit and close the bargain. If you don’t I’ll have to offer it to somebody else.”

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