the gentleman said "pletch" for pledge and "afanoo" for
avenue.

The second stranger, hearing this, at once became strangely cheerful and
insisted upon shaking hands with the first one.

"Fine, Hyman, fine! I'm delighted to hear you say so. Your words lift a
load of doubt from my mind. It came to me in there just now that I might
be incurring that supper for nothing but my sins!"

"Have your choke," said Hyman, a little bitterly.

"I have, Hyman, I have had my 'choke'!" said James Walsingham Price,
with a glance of disrelish toward the dining room.

It seemed clear to Billy Durgin, who reported this interview to me in a
manner of able realism, that these men were both crooks of the first
water.

Billy at once polished his star and cleaned and oiled his new 32-caliber
"bull-dog." The promise of work ahead for the right man loomed more
brightly than ever before in his exciting career.

While I discussed with Miss Caroline, that evening, the unpleasant
mystery of her late caller, there came a note from him by messenger. He
offered six hundred and twenty-one dollars for her furniture, the sum
being written in large letters, so that it had the effect of being
shouted from the page. He further expressed a wish to close the deal
within the half hour, as he must leave town on the night train.

Had Miss Caroline been alone, she might have fallen. Even I was
staggered, but not beyond recovery. The messenger bore back, at my
suggestion, a refusal of the offer and a further refusal to consider any
more offers that evening. There was indicated a need for calm daylight
consideration, and a face-to-face meeting with this variable Mr. Cohen.

"But he leaves on the night train," said Miss Caroline. "It may be our
last chance, and six hundred dollars is--"

"He only says he leaves," I responded. "And for three days, at least,
Mr. Cohen seems to have been grossly misinformed about his own
movements. Perhaps he's deceived himself again."

At eight o'clock the following morning Clem served my breakfast for the
first time since his illness, and I approached it with thanksgiving for
his recovery.

A knock at the door took him from me just as he had poured the first cup
of real coffee I had seen for nearly three months. He came back with the
card of one James Walsingham Price, whom I did not know; whereas I did
know the coffee.

"Fetch him here," I said. "He can't expect me to leave this coffee,
whoever he is."

Into my dini