pater died, suddenly. Five hundred thousand was a
lot of money in that town. Too much to settle there, I thought. I
abandoned the law, and came to Northumberland. The governor had been a
non-resident member of the Northumberland Club, which made it easy for
me to join. I soon found, however, that what had seemed ample wealth in
the old town, did not much more than make ends meet, here--provided I
kept up my end. I was about the poorest one in the set I affected, so,
naturally, I went into the stock market. Royster was the particular
broker of the gang and the first year I did very well.--You think it
was intended?" (As Macloud smiled.) "Well, I don't doubt now you're
right. The next year I began to lose. Then Royster put me into that
Company of his down in Virginia--the Virginia Improvement Company, you
know. He took me down, in a special car, showed me how much he himself
had in it, how much would be got out of it, offered to let me in on the
ground floor, and made it look so rosy, withal, that I succumbed. Two
hundred thousand was buried there. An equal amount I had lent them, at
six per cent., shortly after I came to Northumberland--selling the
securities that yielded only four per cent. to do it. That accounts for
four hundred thousand--gone up the flume. Eighty thousand I lost in
stocks. The remainder, about twenty thousand, I still have. By some
error I can't account for, they did not get away with it, too.--Such is
the tale of a foolish man," he ended.

"Will you make any effort to have Royster prosecuted?" Macloud asked.

"No--I've been pretty much of a baby, but I'm not going to cry over
milk that's spilt."

"It's not all spilt--some of it will be recovered."

"My dear Macloud, there won't be enough money recovered to buy me
cigarettes for one evening. Royster has hypothecated and rehypothecated
securities until no man can trace his own, even if it would help him
to do so. You said it would _likely_ prove a disgraceful failure. I am
absolutely sure of it."

Macloud beat a tattoo on the window-ledge.

"What do you think of doing?" he said--"or haven't you got to it,
yet--or don't you care to tell?"

"I've got to it," replied Croyden; "and I don't care to tell--anyone
but you, Colin. I can't stay here----"

"Not on twelve hundred a year, certainly--unless you spend the little
principal you have left, and, then, drop off for good."

"Which would be playing the baby act, sure enough."

Macloud nodded.