"Well, you brought me here," she said at last. "You've fed me, and you don't feed anybody, Conward, without a purpose. What's the consideration?"
"Yes, I have a purpose," he admitted. "I'm pulling off a little joke, and I want you to help me."
"You're some joker," she returned. "Who have you got it in for?"
"You know Elden—Dave Elden?"
"Sure. I've known him ever since that jolt put him out of business up in your rooms, ever so many years ago. He was too rural for that mixture. Still, Elden has lots of friends—decent friends, I mean."
"I'm rather sorry you know him," said Conward. "But—what's more to the point—does he know you?"
"Not he. I guess he had no memory the next morning, and would have made a point of forgetting me, even if he had."
"That's all right, then. Now I want you to get him down to your place some night to be agreed upon—I'll fix the date later—and keep him there until I call for him, with his fiancée."
"Some joke," she said, and there was disgust in her voice. "Who is it on: Elden, me, or the girl?"
"Never mind who it's on," Conward returned. "I'm paying for it. Here's something on account, and if you make a good job of it, I won't be stingy."