a chance with you," he said, "and if you are as bad a
detective as you are a sport I needn't worry."

They both laughed, and, with sudden mutual liking, each raised his glass
and nodded.

"But they haven't got me yet," continued Ashton, "and unless they get
me in the next thirty days I'm free. So you needn't think that I'll help
you. It's 'never again' for me. The first time, that was the fault of
the crowd I ran with; the second time, that would be MY fault. And there
ain't going to be any second time."

He shook his head doggedly, and with squared shoulders leaned back in
his chair.

"If it only breaks right for me," he declared, "I'll settle down in one
of those 'Own-your own-homes,' forty-five minutes from Broadway, and
never leave the wife and the baby."

The words almost brought Ford to his feet. He had forgotten the wife and
the baby. He endeavored to explain his surprise by a sudden assumption
of incredulity.

"Fancy you married!" he exclaimed.

"Married!" protested Ashton. "I'm married to the finest little lady
that ever wore skirts, and in thirty-seven days I'll see her again.
Thirty-seven days," he repeated impatiently. "Gee! That's a hell of a
long time!"

Ford studied the young man with increased interest. That he was speaking
sincerely, from the heart, there seemed no possible doubt.

Ashton frowned and his face clouded. "I've not been able to treat her
just right," he volunteered. "If she wrote me, the letters might give
them a clew, and I don't write HER because I don't want her to know
all my troubles until they're over. But I know," he added, "that five
minutes' talk will set it all right. That is, if she still feels about
me the way I feel about her."

The man crushed his cigar in his fingers and threw the pieces on the
floor. "That's what's been the worst!" he exclaimed bitterly. "Not
hearing, not knowing. It's been hell!"

His eyes as he raised them were filled with suffering, deep and genuine.

Ford rose suddenly. "Let's go down to the Savoy for supper," he said.

"Supper!" growled Ashton. "What's the use of supper? Do you suppose cold
chicken and a sardine can keep me from THINKING?"

Ford placed his hand on the other's shoulder.

"You come with me," he said kindly. "I'm going to do you a favor. I'm
going to bring you a piece of luck. Don't ask me any questions," he
commanded hurriedly. "Just take my word for it."

They had sat so late over their cigars that when they reached