It was graded, guttered and
sidewalked. A small sentry box labelled "office," and inscribed with
glowing eulogiums, occupied a strategic position near the gates. From
this house Bob immediately became aware of close scrutiny by a man half
concealed by the indoor dimness.
"The spider," said Baker. "He's onto us big as a house. He can spot a
yap at four hundred yards' range, and you bet they don't get much nearer
than that alone."
A huge sign shrieked of Maudsley Court. "Get a grin!" was its first
advice.
"They all try for a catchword--every one of 'em," explained Baker.
"You'll see all kinds in the ads; some pretty good, most of 'em rotten."
"They seem to have made a start, anyway," observed Bob, indicating a new
cottage half way down the street. It was a super-artistic structure,
exhibiting the ends of huge brown beams at all points. Baker laughed.
"That's what it's intended to seem," said he. "That's the come-on house.
It's built by the spider. It's stick-um for the flies. 'This is going to
be a high-brow proposition,' says the intending purchaser; 'look at the
beautiful house already up.
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