Mr. Pryor had gone to the clouded glass door, which Frank knew opened Into the main office. He slipped Its catch and opened It. Frank understood that he was to pass out that way. He started forward, making a deferential bow to his host.
"Hi, I say, Pryor—one minute!" sounded a voice in the outer office, and Frank wondered what was about to happen as he recognized the tones as belonging to Dorsett.
"In a few minutes," responded Pryor, with an impatient wave of his hand.
"All right. It's about the salvage business, you know," went on Dorsett from behind the wire grating. "Want to pay you the money and close up the deal."
"Oh, that?" spoke Pryor, with a sudden glance at Frank and a grim twinkle in his eyes. "You young schemer!" he said to Frank in an undertone, with a slight chuckle. "I understand your peculiar tactics, now. You'll do, decidedly, young man!"
Frank tried to look all due humility, but he could not entirely suppress a satisfied smile. As he passed out Pryor said to Dorsett: "You are too late on that matter. I have just closed the salvage business with Buckner of Greenville."
"You've what?" howled Dorsett, with a vio-
