r millions or the fractional part of it. He thought
of South America, of South Africa, of a private yacht swinging through
the little frequented islands of the South Seas. All that the law had
tried to take from him would be given back. Walling would work out the
details of the escape--and make it safe and sure--trust Walling for
those things. On one side was the prison, with its promise of twelve
grinding years sliced out of the very heart of his life; on the other,
freedom, ease, security, even power. Through Mr. Trimm's mind tumbled
thoughts of concessions, enterprises, privileges--the back corners of
the globe were full of possibilities for the right man. And between this
prospect and Mr. Trimm there stood nothing in the way, nothing but----

Mr. Trimm's eyes fell upon his bound hands. Snug-fitting, shiny steel
bands irked his wrists. The Grips of the Law were still upon him.

But only in a way of speaking. It was preposterous, unbelievable,
altogether out of the question that a man with four millions salted down
and stored away, a man who all his life had been used to grappling with
the big things and wrestling them down into submission, a man whose luck
had come to be a byword--and had not it held good even in this last
emergency?--would be balked by puny scraps of forged steel and a
trumpery lock or two. Why, these cuffs were no thicker than the gold
bands that Mr. Trimm had seen on the arms of overdressed women at the
opera. The chain that joined them was no larger and, probably, no
stronger than the chains which Mr. Trimm's chauffeur wrapped around the
tires of the touring car in winter to keep the wheels from skidding on
the slush. There would be a way, surely, for Mr. Trimm to free himself
from these things. There must be--that was all there was to it.

Mr. Trimm looked himself over. His clothes were not badly rumpled; his
patent-leather boots were scarcely scratched. Without the handcuffs he
could pass unnoticed anywhere. By night then he must be free of them and
on his way to some small inland city, to stay quiet there until the
guarded telegram that he would send in cipher had reached Walling. There
in the woods by himself Mr. Trimm no longer felt the ignominy of his
bonds; he felt only the temporary embarrassment of them and the need of
added precaution until he should have mastered them.

He was once more the unemotional man of affairs who had stood Wall
Street on its esteemed head and caught the golde