the now wakeful Worth, he
grunted, groaned, finally heaving his own pillow at Billy who, dodging
the same, renewed his offensive tactics to such effect that MacLester
presently sprang forth from beside the now dozing Paul and grumblingly
proceeded to dress.

"Dave," began Phil, "I got something to tell you and Billy that I want
you to listen to until you get the thing firmly inside your thinkers.
Then, if you are interested, we'll wake up Paul for good and you can
look at what he's got to show you. He showed it to me last night, after
we tried to get you two to wake up enough to get the facts fairly
through your noddles."

"'Things' and 'noddles'!" This from Billy, tossing his much abused
pillow on the bed. "Why don't you get busy and talk sense? What you got
to show us anyhow? As for Paul, he--he's a--"

"He is, is he?" Paul, thus exclaiming, suddenly sat up and discharged
his own pillow at Billy, but only managed to hit Phil. "I didn't mean
you, Phil. I've been awake for about half a minute, and I know what
you're up to, Phil. Go for 'em, while I dig up the documents."

While Phil was relating the substance of what Paul told him and what the
two papers revealed, MacLester sniffed suspiciously and gradually
assumed his customary expression when doubtful opinions were being
aired, apparently for his own benefit. While Phil was talking, Paul had
extracted the crumpled printed scrap, evidently clipped from some long
forgotten town weekly, and the mysterious pencillings on the mussed
envelope.

One after the other Dave and Billy examined both the printed clipping
and the soiled, misused envelope on which were sundry drawings in
pencil. Finally Dave sniffed suspiciously.

"S'pose we _do_ turn off here and do as Paul wants us to? S'pose we
spend a day or two enlarging our hotel bill, and don't find anything
after all? Besides, who would believe anything Coster says?
Nobody"--here a skeptical look at P. Jones, Esq., now dressing in some
haste--"nobody, I say, but him." Dave jerked a finger at Paul, who was
pulling his shirt on over his head.

"I hear you," came Paul's voice, half smothered as he struggled up
through the shirt and, his head popping into view, he eyed MacLester in
disdain.

"Oh, I don't know!" remarked Worth, nodding at Phil. "What do you think
of it, boss?" meaning Way.

"I think just what I said to Paul last night. It's a gambling chance.
Shall we take it? Is it up to a vote?"

"You bet!" shoute