ause of my redemption, Mr. Narkom," he answered in
a hushed voice. "My good friend--for you really _have_ been a good
friend to me, the best I ever had in all the world--my good friend, let
us for only just this one minute speak of the times that lie behind. You
know what redeemed me, a woman's eyes, a woman's rose-white soul. I
said, did I not, that I wanted to win her, wanted to be worthy of her,
wanted to climb up and stand with her in the light? You remember that,
do you not, Mr. Narkom?"

"Yes, I remember. But, my dear fellow, why speak of your 'Vanishing
Cracksman' days when you have so utterly put them behind you, and for
five whole years have lived a life beyond reproach? Whatever you did in
those times you have amply atoned for. And what can that have to do with
your impoverished state?"

"It has everything to do with it. I said I would be worthy of that one
dear woman, and I never can be, Mr. Narkom, until I have made
restitution; until I can offer her a clean hand as well as a clean
life. I can't restore the actual things that the 'Vanishing Cracksman'
stole; for they are gone beyond recall, but I can, at least, restore the
value of them, and that I have been secretly doing for a long time."

"Man alive! God bless my soul! Cleek, my dear fellow, do you mean to
tell me that all the rewards, all the money you have earned in the past
five years----"

"Have gone to the people from whom I stole things in the wretched old
days that lie behind me," he finished very gently. "It goes back, in
secret gifts, as fast as it is earned, Mr. Narkom. Don't you see the
answers, the acknowledgments, in the 'Personal' columns of the papers
now and again? Wheresoever I robbed in those old days, I am repaying in
these. When the score is wiped off, when the last robbery is paid for,
my hand will be clean, and I can offer it; never before."

"Cleek! My dear fellow! What a man! What a _man_! Oh, more than ever am
I certain _now_ that old Sir Horace Wyvern was right that night when he
said that you were a gentleman. Tell me--I'll respect it--tell me, for
God's sake, man, who are you? What are you, dear friend?"

"Cleek," he made reply. "Just Cleek! The rest is my secret and--God's!
We've never spoken of the past since _that_ night, Mr. Narkom, and, with
your kind permission, we never will speak of it again. I'm Cleek, the
detective, at your service once more. Now, then, let's have the new
strange case on which you called me here