g man retorted pleasantly. "Or, as I
should say in the vernacular of this amazing country, I guess not!
This gentleman gives a very creditable rendering of the part, but he
is no more Doctor Bardolf than the Johnny upstairs is Mr. Samuel
Pratt. The fact is, Jacob, the whole thing is a layout, and you've
been very nearly pinched."

Doctor Bardolf picked up his hat with dignity.

"I do not understand your young countryman's phraseology," he said,
turning towards the door.

"He isn't sober yet!" Morse gasped, with a frightened look in his
eyes.

Felixstowe's slim young form seemed to expand.

"You stay where you are," he ordered the pseudo-physician sternly.
"This is about the hang of the thing, Jacob. Your brother went to the
Adirondacks, all right, leaving his house here in the charge of Morse,
whom, like a fool, he seems to have trusted. Morse planned the rest of
it. Not so difficult, either. He couldn't get at any of your brother
Samuel's oof, so he cabled to you, dismissed the servants whom he
couldn't bring into the job, and got this chap Worstead, who is a
ruined stockbroker, to play the part of the physician. Damned good
scheme, too!--Hullo!"

The door had opened a little abruptly, and a small man, bearing an
unmistakable resemblance to Jacob, had entered. His cheeks were
sunburnt, and he had the unkempt appearance of one who has been living
in the backwoods.

"Jacob!" the newcomer exclaimed enthusiastically, holding out both his
hands. "Welcome to New York!"

Jacob felt a little dazed.

"You haven't been ill at all then, Samuel?"

"Ill?" the other repeated contemptuously. "I was never better in my
life. What's it all about?"

Morse threw up the sponge, and Worstead, alias Bardolf, followed suit.

"He led me into this mess," the former declared, shaking his fist at
Worstead. "Got me gambling on differences, and when I couldn't pay he
cooked up this joint. It's the first time I haven't run straight, Mr.
Pratt, and I didn't touch any of your money, anyway."

"So there's been some crooked business, eh?" Samuel Pratt remarked.
"Will some one tell me exactly what's happened?"

Felixstowe gently intervened.

"You'll pick the whole thing up by degrees," he said, "but this is the
long and short of it. Your brother Jacob gets a cable over in England,
sent by Morse here, to say that you are dangerously ill. Out we come,
first steamer. Morse meets us, brings us here; you are supposed to be
upstairs with a