rf no harm. If worth something
he could be found again."

"Cold-blooded Prussian efficiency," nodded McKay. Then he spoke directly
to Rand.

"Since you're mentally sound," he went on, "we may as well tell you how
you happen to be among us. We three--Merry, Tim, and I--came here to
find you. The settlement of the Dawson estate hinges on you."

"On me? How? I've no claim to it. Paul Dawson, Uncle Phil's son--"

"Is dead, too. Killed in action in the Argonne, You're next in line."

McKay watched him keenly. So did Knowlton. The half-expected jubilance
did not come.

"So Paul's gone," was Rand's reply. "Hard luck. Suppose I hadn't been
found--then what?"

"In due time the money would go to a school. Boys' school."

"Orphans? Blind? Cripples?"

"Hardly." McKay's mouth curved sardonically. He named a preparatory
school of the "exclusive" type. Rand's mouth also twisted.

"That hotbed of snobbery? That twin sister to a society girls' finishing
school? Might have known it, though. Uncle Phil was fond of the sort of
education that doesn't educate. I'm glad you fellows found me. I'll go
home and collect every red cent, just to keep it out of the hands of the
supercilious bunch of bishops that run that sissy-spawner."

Knowlton chuckled appreciatively.

"It's not the sort of school that breeds he-men, for a fact," he agreed.
"But you don't seem much enthused over having a couple of millions
dropped into your lap."

Rand sat still. His face remained cheerless, impassive.

"What is money?" he said, presently. "I've always had plenty of it.
What's it done for me? When you have it you can't tell whether people
are friends to you or only friends to your money. It makes you cynical,
suspicious. What's worse, you depend too much on it. You think it will
do everything. Then if you land in a place where it's no good and you
haven't got it, anyway, you're up against it a good deal harder than the
fellow who never had it but knows how to handle himself without it."

"True for ye," Tim concurred, heartily. "All the same, I bet ye'll
change yer tune after ye git home."

"Will I?" The green eyes impaled him. "Maybe. But I don't think so. I've
had my run at blowing in money on myself alone. Now I'm going to blow
some on other folks. I missed out on the war, but--There must be quite a
few of our fellows lamed and crippled by that war. And I'll gamble that
the government isn't treating them all like princes. I know something
ab