usiness of
breaking law for twenty years, and he finally handed over his
revolver.

"Search me if I know why I do it," he said, turning to the
bar-tender. "I could eat that kid in three bites."

"Yes," said the man behind. "But you couldn't digest the whole
British Empire, and that's what you've got to do if you start
nibbling on any part of it. Besides, he mightn't make as easy chewin'
as you think. You'd find him more brisket than sirloin when you get
your teeth into him. I've seen him throw an' handcuff a bigger man
than you right in this room, an' never turn a hair in doin' it. An'
take it from me, stranger, what he says about sendin' seven if the
job's too big for six is gospel, an' the quicker you get that in your
block the safer your hide'll be in Canada."

Sharp at ten the next morning the man who made a business of breaking
the law appeared before the magistrate, paid a fine of fifty dollars,
and surrendered his weapon to the King's officers for good. When he
returned to the hotel and demanded his bill for the night's lodging
he was surprised to learn he had none.

"Sergeant Grey settled for you," said the clerk with a faint smile.
"Said you were his guest last night."

It was the first time in a long experience that he had found that law
could be rigorous and yet absolutely just. It upset his whole crude
philosophy of his relation to society and the State, and stretched
before him the straight and easy road to citizenship.

To return to the scene of the night before. When the bar-room had
settled down to normal, and no one showed a disposition to do any
general buying, Riles betook himself to his room. He had just got
into bed when a knock came at the door.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

"Gen'l'man to see Mr. Riles," said the porter.

"Well, shoot 'im in. The door ain't locked," said Riles, in
considerable wonderment as to who his visitor might be.

The door opened, and a well-dressed man of average height, with
carefully combed hair and clean-shaven face, save for a light
moustache, stood revealed in the uncertain glow of the match with
which Riles was endeavouring to find his lamp. His visitor was a man
of twenty-eight or thirty years, with clear eyes and well-cut face,
and yet with some subtle quality in his expression that implied that
under his fair exterior lay a deep, cunning, and that he was a man
not to be trusted in matters where his own interests might be at
stake.

"Hello, Hiram," he