With an imperious gesture Norman stopped him.
"Good day, sir," he said haughtily. "Your secrets are safe with me. I am a lawyer, not a financier."
Galloway was disconcerted. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Norman," he said. "I misunderstood you. I thought I heard you say in effect that you purposed to be rich, and that you purposed to compel me to make you so."
"So I did," replied Norman. "But not by the methods you financiers are so adept at using. Not by high-class blackmail and blackjacking. I meant that my abilities were such that you and your fellow masters of modern society would be compelled to employ me on my own terms. A few moments ago you outlined to me a plan. It may be you can find other lawyers competent to steer it through the channel of the law. I doubt it.
I may exaggerate my value. But--" He smiled pleasantly--"I don't think so."
In this modern world of ours there is no more delicate or more important branch of the art of material success than learning to play one's own tune on the trumpets of fame. To those who watch careers intelligently and critically, and not merely with mouth agape and ears awag for whatever sounds the winds of credulity bear, there is keen interest in noting how differently this high art is practiced by the fame-seekers--how well some modest heroes disguise themselves before essaying the trumpet, how timidly some play, how brazenly others.
It is an art of infinite variety. How many there are who can echo Shakespeare's sad lament, through Hamlet's lips--"I lack advancement!" Those are they who have wholly neglected, as did Shakespeare, this essential part of the art of advancement--Shakespeare, who lived almost obscure and was all but forgotten for two centuries after his death.
Norman, frankly seeking mere material success, and with the colossal egotism that disdains egotism and shrugs at the danger of being accused of it--Norman did not hesitate to proclaim his own merits. He reasoned that he had the wares, that crying them would attract attention to them, that he whose attention was attracted, if he were a judge of wares and a seeker of the best, would see that the Norman wares were indeed as Norman cried them. At first blush Galloway was amused by Norman's candid self-esteem. But he had often heard of Norman's conceit--and in a long and busy life he had not seen an able man who was unaware of his ability; any more than he had seen a pretty woman unaware of her prettiness. So, at second blush, Galloway was tempted by Norman's calm strong blast upon his own trumpet to look again at the wares.
"I always have had a high opinion of you, young man," said he, with laughing eyes. "Almost as high an opinion as you have of yourself. Think over the legal side of my plan. When you get your thoughts in order, let me know--and make me a proposition as to your own share. Does that satisfy you?"
"It's all I ask," said Norman.
And they parted on the friendliest terms--and Norman knew that his fortune was assured, if Galloway lived another nine months. When he was alone, the sweat burst out upon him and, trembling from head to foot, he locked his door and flung himself at full length upon the rug. It was half an hour before the fit of silent hysterical reaction passed sufficiently to let him gather strength to rise. He tottered to his desk chair, and sat with his head buried in his arms upon the desk.
After a while the telephone at his side rang insistently.
He took the receiver in a hand he could not steady.
"Yes?" he called.
"It's Tetlow. How'd you come out?"
"Oh--" He paused to stiffen his throat to attack the words naturally--"all right. We go ahead."
"With G.?"
"Certainly. But keep quiet. Don't let him know you've heard, if you see him or he sends for you.
Remember, it's in my hands entirely."
"Trust me." Tetlow's voice, suppressed and jubilant, suggested a fat, hoarse rooster trying to finish a crow before a coming stone from a farm boy reaches him. "It seems natural and easy to you, old man.
But I'm about crazy with joy. I'll come right over."
"No. I'm going home."
"Can't I see you there?"
"No. I've other matters to attend to. Come about lunch time to-morrow--to the office, here."
"All right," said Tetlow disappointedly, and Norman rang off.
