ncumbent when he realized that
his niche had been filled, and it did not add to his cheerfulness when
the foreman examined his biceps with an expert touch and remarked: "I
guess that ye can take care of yerself."

There was nothing belligerent about Dennis, and he trusted that his
predecessor would not regard him from that standpoint.

In the meantime Saturday arrived, and Dennis, in possession of his
proportion of the week's pay, hurried to The Stag by way of Baxter
Street.

In this locality he began a search for Series B of the dickies, and was
finally successful, after a number of disappointments and a protracted
hunt.

With the courage of his recently acquired situation, Dennis proposed to
indulge in a little improvidence.

He decided that he would follow the singular recital on the dickey backs
and rip off a chapter at a time.

After a night of fortifying slumber, Dennis arose, breakfasted, and
boarded an elevated train, which presently conveyed him to the vicinity
of Central Park.

Here, after securing a seat to his fancy, he withdrew Series B from the
wrapper, detached bosom No. 1 and began.

CHAPTER V

When Raikes had parted from the Sepoy, a degree of his customary
hardness and assurance was evident in his manner.

He had been able to comment sagaciously upon the extraordinary
narrative, and had appropriated as much of the sapphire as his greedy
glance and covetous memory could bear away; but now that he pursued his
way along the dimly lighted hallway which led to his apartment, a
singularly thoughtful mood oppressed him.

This phenomenon, due, in part, to the cessation of the drowsy cadences
of the Sepoy and the absence of the fascination and gleam of the
sapphire, was relegated by Raikes to the overtures of approaching
drowsiness.

And yet the startling episode which confronted Prince Otondo in the
evening's instalment of this Oriental complication recurred to his mind
again and again.

Strangely, too, Raikes did not comment upon the singular fact of the
narrative itself.

Why should the Sepoy take the trouble to relate it to him, and why
should he, of all unconcerned and self-centered men, manifest such an
unusual interest in a recital which lacked every practical feature and
had nothing but the weird to commend it?

If he asked himself these questions, it was with the impersonality of
lethargy, for they were dismissed as readily as they presented
themselves.

With such sedati