laughing brown eyes. "The game down town has
given me enough excitement. I haven't had to continue it up town to keep
my hand in."

In fact, I had, as I have already said, been breaking off with my former
friends because, while many of the most reputable and reliable financiers
down town go in for high play occasionally at the gambling houses, it isn't
wise for the man trying to establish himself as a strictly legitimate
financier. I had been playing as much as ever, but only in games in my own
rooms and at the rooms of other bankers, brokers and commercial leaders.
The passion for high play is a craving that gnaws at a man all the time,
and he must always be feeding it one way or another.

"I've noticed that you are getting too swell to patronize us fellows," said
he, his shrewd smile showing that my polite excuse had not fooled him.
"Well, Matt, you're right--you always did have good sound sense and a
steady eye for the main chance. I used to think the women'd ruin you, they
were so crazy about that handsome mug and figure of yours. But when I saw
you knew exactly when to let go, I knew nothing could stop you."

By this time he had the safe open, disclosing several compartments and a
small, inside safe. He worked away at the second combination lock, and
presently exposed the interior of the little safe. It was filled with a
great roll of bills. He pried this out, brought it over to the desk and
began wrapping it up. "I want you to take this with you when you go," said
he. "I've made several big killings lately, and I'm going to get you to
invest the proceeds."

"I can't take that big bundle along with me, Joe," said I. "Besides, it
ain't safe. Put it in the bank and send me a check."

"Not on your life," replied Healey with a laugh. "The suckers we trimmed
gave checks, and I turned 'em into cash as soon as the banks opened. I
wasn't any too spry, either. Two of the damned sneaks consulted lawyers
as soon as they sobered off, and tried to stop payment on their checks.
They're threatening proceedings. You must take the dough away with you, and
I don't want a receipt."

"Trimming suckers, eh?" said I, not able to decide what to do.

"Their fathers stole it from the public," he explained. "They're drunken
little snobs, not fit to have money. I'm doing a public service by
relieving them of it. If I'd 'a' got more, I'd feel that much more"--he
vented his light, cool, sarcastic laugh--"more patriotic."

"I can't take