ut as compared with the Jerry of Horsham Manor, he
didn't ring true.

"You can't keep people from knowing, Jerry," I said. "Your picture
will be on every sporting page in the United States."

"Oh, we've fixed that with a photographer. Flynn had a picture of a
cousin of his who is dead--young chap--looked something like me.
They're faking the thing."

The boy was getting a new code of morals as well as a new vocabulary.

"You can't hide a lie, Jerry."

"I'm not harming anybody," he muttered.

"Nobody but yourself," I said sternly.

"I don't see that," he growled, clasping his great fists over his
knees.

"It's the truth. You'll harm yourself irrevocably. The thing will come
out somehow. Jim Robinson isn't Jerry Benham. He's the New York and
South Western Railroad Company, the Seaboard Transportation Line, the
United Oil Company--"

"I'd get Clancy's goat in the first round if he thought I was all
that, wouldn't I?" Jerry grinned sheepishly, while Jack Ballard fought
back a smile.

"If you won't consider your own interests, what you must consider is
that you've no right to jeopardize the property interests of those who
have put their money and their faith behind these enterprises which
you control. You're already in a responsible position. You're making
yourself a mountebank, a laughing-stock. No one will ever trust you in
a position of responsibility again."

"I'm sorry, Roger, if you think things are as bad as that," said Jerry
coolly. "I don't. And besides, I'm too far in this thing to back out
now."

There was no shaking his resolution. We pleaded with him, argued,
cajoled, ridiculed, but all to no purpose. Jack painted a picture of
the crowd in the Garden, the cat-calls, the jeers, imitated the
introduction of past and present champions, and Jerry winced a little,
but was not moved. Finding all else unavailing, I fell back upon our
friendship, recalling all Jerry's old ideals and mine. He softened a
little, but merely repeated:

"I can't back out now, Roger. They'll think me a quitter. I'd like to
please you in everything, but I can't, Roger, I can't."

Jack Ballard was so incensed at this obstinacy that he swore at the
boy, flung out of the room and disappeared.

With a sober expression Jerry watched him go out and then rose and
walked slowly to the window. I looked at him in silence. I knew his
manner. Confession was on the tip of his tongue, and yet he would not
speak. But I waited patiently.