Isaac Merkle was a consulting chemist who did a considerable amount of work for the Wentworth Glass Company. He lived and worked in a six-room flat on the top floor of a tenement house in that somewhat unsalubrious section of New York known as Hell’s Kitchen. His laboratory consisted of one large room that had been formed by knocking down the partitions of three smaller rooms; it was in the other three rooms that Mr. Merkle, who was a bachelor, lived alone.
The laboratory was a long, bare room, with a skylight. It was furnished with two long wooden tables, littered with chemical apparatus, several small chairs, and a wooden table. There was a large soapstone sink over at one side, and a long, low shelf down one wall, with a row of villainous-looking bottles upon it.
To this laboratory, by appointment, came Mr. Leffingwell Hope that very same evening. Mr. Merkle, as agreed, was quite alone when the secretary arrived. The chemist was a fat, middle-aged little man, with a round, very red, smooth-shaven face, an over-large nose, and mouse-colored hair with a bald spot on top.
Mr. Leffingwell Hope, seating himself uncomfortably on one of the little wooden chairs, was at some trouble just how to begin the business that had brought him.
“Ike,” he said finally, “I’ve got an idea that might, if it is any good, make us a lot of money.” He hesitated; and then, feeling that frankness would be his best policy, went on:
“I’m going to tell you all about it—everything I know. I want your advice in the first place, and then, if the idea’s any good—which maybe it’s not—we’ll go in it together—share and share alike, no matter what we have to do to pull it through. That O. K.?”
“The way you talk it’s crook stuff,” said Mr. Merkle. “You couldn’t scare me if it’s to be made real money. Shoot.”
“It isn’t crooked,” the secretary hastened to assure him. “But it’s a matter requiring, for the present, absolute secrecy.”
“Shoot,” said Mr. Merkle again.
The secretary hesitated. He didn’t exactly trust Mr. Merkle. He realized that he had nothing but an idea to tell. If the idea was worth anything at all it was a big thing. He thought it best to set this forth frankly to his friend at the outset.