er touch
a penny of Uncle's money. Selden, she says Uncle Mac was all for blowing
him up sky-high; but she made him promise not to, so as not to queer my
game. If I get Oscar Mitchell out to the desert, I'll almost persuade him
to be a Christian.... She's got Old McClintock on the run, Mary Selden
has!

"Shucks! The minute I heard about the millionaire uncle, I knowed
where Stan's trouble began. I wonder what makes Stan such a fool! He
might 'a' knowed!... This Oscar person is pretty soft.... Mighty nice
kid, little Selden is! Smart too. She's some schemer!... Too smart for
Oscar!... Different complected, and all that; but her ways--she sort of
puts me in mind of Miss Sally."

CHAPTER XII

Mr. Oscar Mitchell was a bachelor, though not precisely lorn. He
maintained an elm-shaded residence on Front Street, presided over by an
ancient housekeeper, of certain and gusty disposition, who had guided his
first toddling steps and grieved with him for childhood's insupportable
wrongs, and whose vinegarish disapprovals were still feared by Mitchell;
it was for her praise or blame that his overt walk and conversation were
austere and godly, his less laudable activities so mole-like.

After dinner Mr. Mitchell slipped into a smoking jacket with a violent
velvet lining and sat in his den--a den bedecorated after the manner
known to the muddle-minded as artistic, but more aptly described by Sir
Anthony Gloster as "beastly." To this den came now the sprightly clerk,
summoned by telephone.

"Sit down, Pelman. I sent for you because I desire your opinion and
cooperation upon a matter of the first importance," said the lawyer,
using his most gracious manner.

Mr. Joseph Pelman, pricking up his ears at the smooth conciliation of eye
and voice, warily circled the room, holding Mitchell's eyes as he went,
selected a corner chair for obvious strategic reasons, pushed it against
the wall, tapped that wall apprehensively with a backward-reaching hand,
seated himself stiffly upon the extreme edge of the chair, and faced his
principal, bolt upright and bristling with deliberate insolence.

"If it is murder I want a third," he remarked.

The lawyer gloomed upon this frowardness.

"That is a poor way to greet an opportunity to make your fortune once and
for all," he said. "I have something on hand now, which, if we can swing
it--"

"One-third," said the clerk inflexibly.

Mitchell controlled himself with a visible effort. He s