"I don't believe he ever heard a word of the
trouble."

"Then why did he put Pedders' name on his list?" demands Steele.

"Maybe he thought sendin' on the bonds would clear up the mess," says I.
"So it would, if they hadn't come a day or two late and got stowed away
here. And here they've been for twenty years!"

"Yes, and quite as valuable to the bank as if they'd been in the
vaults," sneers J. Bayard. "That Water Level stock never was worth the
paper it was printed on, any more than it is now."

"We'll make it useful, then," says I. "Why, it's got Aladdin's lamp beat
four ways for Wednesday! These bonds go to Pedders. Then Pedders shaves
off his whiskers, puts on his Sunday suit, braces his shoulders back,
walks down to the bank, and chucks this bunch of securities at 'em
triumphant."

"But if the bank is still out a hundred and fifty thousand," objects
Steele, "I don't see how----"

"They ain't out a cent," says I. "We'll find a customer for these
bonds."

"Who?" says he.

"J. Bayard Steele," says I. "Ain't you actin' for a certain party that
would have wanted it done?"

"By Jove!" says he. "Shorty, you've hit it! Why, I'd never have thought
of----"

"No," says I; "you're still seein' only that twenty per cent commission.
Well, you get that. But I want to see the look in Mrs. Pedders' eyes
when she hears the news."

Say, it was worth makin' a way train trip to Tullington, believe me!

"I knew," says she. "Oh, I always have known John didn't do it! And now
others will know. Oh, I'm glad, so glad!"

Even brought a slight dew to them shifty eyes of J. Bayard's, that
little scene did. "McCabe," says he, as we settles ourselves in the
night express headed towards Broadway, "this isn't such a bad game,
after all, is it?"

CHAPTER IV

TWO SINGLES TO GOOBER

"Shorty," says Sadie, hangin' up the 'phone and turnin' to me excited,
"what do you think? Young Hollister is back in town!"

"So are lots of other folks," says I, "and more comin' every day."

"But you know he promised to stay away," she goes on, "and his mother
will feel dreadfully about it when she hears."

"I know," says I. "And a livelier widow never hailed from Peachtree
street, Atlanta; which is sayin' a lot. Who sends in this bulletin about
Sonny?"

"Purdy-Pell," says Sadie, "and he doesn't know what to do."

"Never does," says I.

Sadie flickers a grin. "It seems Robin came two days ago, and has hardly
been seen about the h