ndred thousand
dollars.

That obstacle was an extremely healthy fear of Jimmy Brunell. It was
true that there had been no connection between them in years, but he
remembered Jimmy's attitude toward the "snitcher," as well as toward
the man who "held out" on his pals; and behind his cupidity was a
lurking caution which was made manifest when he walked into the
kitchen and found Mrs. Pennold with her shriveled arms immersed in the
washtub.

"Say, Mame, the young feller, Hicks, is all right, and so is the bank;
but how about Jimmy himself? If I can fix the young feller, and we can
pull it off with the bank, that's all well and good. But s'pose Jimmy
should hear of it? Know what would happen to us, don't you?"

"If he ain't heard of them securities all this time they've been lyin'
forgotten in the bank, it's safe he won't hear of 'em now unless you
tell him," retorted his shrewder half, dryly. "Of course, if he's
lived straight, as he has for near twenty years as far as we know, and
he finds it out, he'll grab everything for himself. Why shouldn't he?
But s'pose the bulls are after him for somethin', and the bank's
hood-winked as well as us, where are we if we mix up in this? Tell me
that!"

"There's another side of it, too, Mame."

Pennold walked to the window, and regarded the sordid lines of washed
clothes contemplatively. "What if Jimmy has been up to somethin' on
the quiet, that the bulls ain't on to, and this bunch of securities is
on the level? If I went to him on the square, and offered him a
percentage to play dead, wouldn't he be ready and willin' to divide?"

"Of course he would; he's no fool," returned Mrs. Pennold shortly.
"But let me tell you, Wally, I don't like the look of that 'See Walter
Pennold of Brooklyn,' on the note in the bank. S'pose they was trying
to trace him through us?"

"You're talkin' like a blame' fool, Mame. Them securities has been
there for years, forgotten. Everybody knows that me and Brunell was
pals in the old days, but no one's got nothin' on us now, and he give
up the game years ago."

"How d'you know he did?" persisted his wife doggedly. "That's what you
better find out, but you've gotter be careful about it, in case this
whole thing should be a plant."

"You don't have to tell me!" Pennold grumbled. "I'll write him first
and then wait a few days, and if anyone's tailing me in the meantime,
they'll have a run for their money."

"Write him!"

"Of course. You may have