nd the five-dollar bill
with which the law expected him to rehabilitate himself into good
citizenship and prosperity. The warden gave him a cigar, and shook
hands. Valentine, 9762, was chronicled on the books, "Pardoned by
Governor," and Mr. James Valentine walked out into the sunshine.

Disregarding the song of the birds, the waving green trees, and
the smell of the flowers, Jimmy headed straight for a restaurant.
There he tasted the first sweet joys of liberty in the shape of a
broiled chicken and a bottle of white wine--followed by a cigar a
grade better than the one the warden had given him. From there he
proceeded leisurely to the depot. He tossed a quarter into the hat
of a blind man sitting by the door, and boarded his train. Three
hours set him down in a little town near the state line. He went to
the cafe of one Mike Dolan and shook hands with Mike, who was alone
behind the bar.

"Sorry we couldn't make it sooner, Jimmy, me boy," said Mike. "But
we had that protest from Springfield to buck against, and the
governor nearly balked. Feeling all right?"

"Fine," said Jimmy. "Got my key?"

He got his key and went upstairs, unlocking the door of a room at
the rear. Everything was just as he had left it. There on the floor
was still Ben Price's collar-button that had been torn from that
eminent detective's shirt-band when they had overpowered Jimmy to
arrest him.

Pulling out from the wall a folding-bed, Jimmy slid back a panel in
the wall and dragged out a dust-covered suit-case. He opened this
and gazed fondly at the finest set of burglar's tools in the East.
It was a complete set, made of specially tempered steel, the latest
designs in drills, punches, braces and bits, jimmies, clamps, and
augers, with two or three novelties, invented by Jimmy himself, in
which he took pride. Over nine hundred dollars they had cost him
to have made at ----, a place where they make such things for the
profession.

In half an hour Jimmy went down stairs and through the cafe. He was
now dressed in tasteful and well-fitting clothes, and carried his
dusted and cleaned suit-case in his hand.

"Got anything on?" asked Mike Dolan, genially.

"Me?" said Jimmy, in a puzzled tone. "I don't understand. I'm
representing the New York Amalgamated Short Snap Biscuit Cracker and
Frazzled Wheat Company."

This statement delighted Mike to such an extent that Jimmy had to
take a seltzer-and-milk on the spot. He never touched "hard" drinks