ys his name's Melville Slater."

"Wha-a-at!" gasps Mr. Robert. "Melly Slater, trying to borrow half a
dollar from you?"

"There's no doubt about his needin' it," says I. "My guess is that a
half would be a life saver to him just now."

"Why, it doesn't seem possible!!" says Mr. Robert. "Of course, I
haven't seen Melly recently; but I can't imagine how---- Did you say
he was still there?"

"Hung up on the rail outside, if the cop ain't shooed him off," says I.

"Then keep him there until I come," says Mr. Robert. "If it's Melly, I
must come. I'll be right over. But don't say a word to him until I
get there."

"Got you," says I. "Hold Melly and keep mum."

I could pipe him off through the swing door vestibule; and, honest,
from the lifeless way he's propped up there, one arm hangin' loose, his
head to one side, and that white, pasty look to his nose and
forehead--well, I didn't know but he'd croaked on the spot. So I slips
through the cafe exit and chases along the side street until I meets
Mr. Robert, who's pikin' over full tilt.

"You're sure it's Melly Slater, are you?" says he.

"I'm only sure that's what he said," says I. "But you can settle that
soon enough. There he is, over there by the window."

"Why!" says Mr. Robert. "That can never be Melly; that is, unless he's
changed wonderfully." With that he marches up and taps the object on
the shoulder. "I say," says he, "you're not really Melly Slater, are
you?"

There's a quick shiver runs through the man against the rail, and he
lifts his eyes up cringin', like he expected to be hit with a club.
Mr. Robert takes one look, and it almost staggers him. Next he reaches
out, gets a firm grip on the gent's collar, and drags him out into a
better light, twistin' the whiskered face up for a close inspection.

"Blashford!" says he, hissin' it out unpleasant. "Bunny Blashford!"

"No, no!" says the gent, tryin' to squirm away. "You--you've made a
mistake."

"Not much!" says Mr. Robert. "I know those sneaking eyes of yours too
well."

"All right," says he; "but--but don't hit me, Bob. Don't."

"You--you cur!" says Mr. Robert, holding him at arm's length and
glarin' at him hostile.

"A ringer, eh?" says I.

"Worse than that," says Mr. Robert, "a sneaking, contemptible hound!
Trying to pass yourself off for Melly, were you?" he goes on. "Of all
men, Melly! What for?"

"I--I didn't want you to know I was back," whines Bunny. "And I had