sed
swiftly out.

* * * * *

Necker was examining the shelf of books above the work-table. "Keats?
Keats? Oh-h, poetry! Montaigne. Montaigne? Oh, yes!" He took it down.
"H-m, in French!" and put it back. One after the other he read the
titles. "Elizabethan Verse. E-u-r-i-p-i-d-e-s. Dante. H-m."

Balfe by now had turned from the screen door. Necker pointed to the
shelf. "Not a book for a practical man in the whole lot, and"--he held
up the ensign--"this! Isn't that the dreamer through and through?"

"But you and I, not being dreamers, consider how thankful we should be."

Necker stared in surprise, and then he smiled. "Now, now, I'm meaning no
harm to your friend. I guess you don't know what I'm after, though I'll
bet I can guess what you're after."

Balfe, fairly meeting Necker's eye, had to smile; and when Necker saw
Balfe smile he winked. "You don't s'pose you could come down here to
this God-forsaken hole, do you, without somebody getting curious?"

"I suppose it was too much to expect. Have a smoke?"

"Thanks." Necker's tone was polite, but it was a most negligent glance
that he gave the box of cigars. There was no name on the box. Balfe,
with unsmiling mien, pointed out two small letters on the cover. "$1.$2.
Mr. Necker."

"$1.$2."

"Hernando Cabada, Key West."

"O-ho! How'd you ever manage to get hold of a box of them?"

"They're Welkie's."

"How can he afford 'em? I offered old Cabada a dollar, a dollar and a
half, and finally two dollars apiece for a thousand of 'em, coming
through Key West the other day--and couldn't get 'em. Nor could all the
pull I had in the place get 'em for me. He wasn't going to make any more
that week, he said. He's a queer one. He's got all those Socialist chaps
going the other way. For why should he work four, five, six hours a day,
he said, when he could make all he wanted in one or two? Sells cigars to
people he likes for fifteen dollars a hundred, but wouldn't sell to me
at any price. I had to take my hat off to him--he stuck. Now, how do you
dope a chap like that?"

"How do you?"

"Don't know the real values in life. Maybe a bit soft up top, besides."
He lit up and drew several deep inhalations. "M-m--this is a smoke for a
man!" He picked up the box gently. "If I thought Welkie'd take it, I'd
offer more than a good price for the rest of that box. But"--suspicion
was growing in his eyes--"how does it happen--d'y' s'pose somebody's
b