his shoulders shook.

"I'm sorry for you, son," he protested, "but that's the funniest thing
that's come my way in two years. And you buying me hot-house grapes,
too, and fancy water! I wish you could see your face," he taunted.

Ford pretended to be greatly chagrined.

"All right," he declared roughly. "The laugh's on me this time, but just
because I lost one trick, don't think I don't know my business. Now that
I'm wise to what YOU are we can work together and--"

The face of young Mr. Ashton became instantly grave. His jaws
snapped like a trap. When he spoke his tone was assured and slightly
contemptuous.

"Not with ME you can't work!" he said.

"Don't think because I fell down on this," Ford began hotly.

"I'm not thinking of you at all," said Ashton. "You're a nice little
fellow all right, but you have sized me up wrong. I am on the 'straight
and narrow' that leads back to little old New York and God's country,
and I am warranted not to run off my trolley."

The words were in the vernacular, but the tone in which the young man
spoke rang so confidently that it brought to Ford a pleasant thrill
of satisfaction. From the first he had found in the personality of the
young man something winning and likable; a shrewd manliness and tolerant
good-humor. His eyes may have shown his sympathy, for, in sudden
confidence, Ashton leaned nearer.

"It's like this," he said. "Several years ago I made a bad break and,
about a year later, they got on to me and I had to cut and run. In a
month the law of limitation lets me loose and I can go back. And you can
bet I'm GOING back. I will be on the bowsprit of the first boat. I've
had all I want of the 'fugitive-from-justice' game, thank you, and I
have taken good care to keep a clean bill of health so that I won't
have to play it again. They've been trying to get me for several
years--especially the Pinkertons. They have chased me all over Europe.
Chased me with all kinds of men; sometimes with women; they've tried
everything except blood-hounds. At first I thought YOU were a 'Pink,'
that's why--"

"I!" interrupted Ford, exploding derisively. "That's GOOD! That's one
on YOU." He ceased laughing and regarded Ashton kindly. "How do you know
I'm not?" he asked.

For an instant the face of the bookmaker grew a shade less red and
his eyes searched those of Ford in a quick agony of suspicion. Ford
continued to smile steadily at him, and Ashton breathed with relief.

"I'll take