"I have to find his weak spot," Johnny persisted. "If you'll just make him talk with me I'll do the rest." 

 Close shook his head and sighed. 

 "I'll try," he agreed, "but I feel about as hopeful as I would be of persuading a bull to sleep in a red blanket." 

 Johnny had caught Close as he was leaving his club for home, and they went round immediately to Schoppenvoll's. At exactly five-thirty Ersten emerged from the wine-room with Kurzerhosen. 

 "Hello, Louis!" hailed the waiting Close. "Jump into the taxi here, and I'll take you down to your train." 

 Ersten and Kurzerhosen looked at each other. 

 "Always we walk," declared Ersten. 

 "There's room for both of you," laughed Close, shaking hands with Kurzerhosen. 

 Ersten sighed. 

 "Always we walk," he grumbled, but he climbed in. 

 When they were started for the terminal Ersten leaned forward, with his bushy brows lowering, and glared Close sternly in the eye. 

 "I will not sell the lease!" he avowed before a word had been spoken. 

 "We know that," admitted Close; "but why?" 

 Ersten hesitated a moment. 

 "Oh, well; I tell you," he consented with an almost malignant glance in the direction of Johnny. "All my customers know me in that place." 

 "Your customers would find you anywhere," Close complimented him. 

 "Maybe they do," admitted Ersten. "My cousin, Otto Gruber, had a fine saloon business. He moved across the street—and broke up." 

 "It was not the same," Close assured him. "In saloons, men want to feel at home. In your business, your customers come because they get the best—and they care nothing for the shop itself." 

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