and make enough to pay off the taxes. And, if he observed all the Horatio Alger niceties, maybe some day he'd own the company and could seek Heather Higgins' hand in marriage—only to discover she had long since married Wesley.

He walked along the beach. Climbing to a jutting promontory, he watched waves break against the rocks below. Why not throw himself into the sea? He could become a ghost, and maybe find a lady ghost, and....

He went home and forced himself to work on Heather Higgins' portrait. He filled an entire sketch pad with brief line drawings of her until, late at night, he finally fell asleep in his chair. He awakened to broad daylight—and the whistling of the postman.

The letter was from Eloise Wright, Chairman of the Northport Art Festival, and concerned his canvases.

Ellis is positively dithy-rambic! Claims you've caught a hauntingly spiritual quality, and wants to buy the storm canvas for his San Francisco galleries. Barret, the Chicago Barret, is lyrical about the spectral lights and shadows, and is writing his New York dealer about a showing. Have sold four canvases. Enclose certified check—

Jerry reached for a chair. Four canvases? His asking price for four canvases had never come to any such figure as the check represented. The letter contained a postscript.

Barret is out of his head over "Gertrude." Impressionism at its finest, with an eerie, imaginative quality unsurpassed by any American artist. Soul of the eternally feminine, as typified by a cat with a hole in the head. Social satire in oil. Picture not priced. He asks what will you take within reason? One thousand?

Jerry was sure of only one thing. He'd never painted any picture of Gertrude. There was, however, the matter of that tube of bice green squeezed in the middle, and the gamboge left capless. He ran to the stairwell and yelled for Captain Wully, who presently appeared.

"I have here a letter—"

"I didn't do it," Captain Wully protested. "'Twas Junior touched up the paintings. And 'twas Junior painted Gertrude. Me? All I did was help Junior dry the paint and boost your prices a wee muckle."

"How much?"

"By nothing at all, you might say. A zero on the end?"

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