you'll pay me before I
leave this town," was Alfred's declaration as he left the room.

A bluff always unsettles a scoundrel. Spaff Hyman, the magician of the
troupe, was after Alfred in a moment. He explained that the boss and one
or two others were under the impression that Alfred and the gentleman
whom Alfred had introduced as his friend were in cahoots, that Alfred
had brought the stranger there to do the gift showman out of the money
and that Alfred stood in with the play.

Alfred was indignant. Spaff assured the boy that he had implicit
confidence in his honesty. "I know that Greene County gang," continued
Spaff, "Jim Kerr and Lias Flanagan had that old trotting horse sneak.
This fellow that came on here was the brains of the gang; they skinned
every sucker on the fair grounds where they entered this horse. He had
this combination sized up; he came on here to trim the boss and he got
away with the play. I know you had nothing to do with it, but if you
leave now, those who suspect you will make others believe you are
crooked. Hold down the job until you prove yourself right, then skip if
you want to."

Alfred began an explanation: "I never met this man but once. I heard
several people say he was a young man with no bad habits: 'He does not
drink a drop of liquor, he don't smoke, chew tobacco, nor cuss.' That's
what I heard in Carmichaelstown."

"Huh! Yes, he's a saint," sarcastically mused the old sleight of hand
man, "he's a saint and that's what makes him successful as a con. Sam
Weller advised his son to 'bevare of vidders,' I advise you to beware of
saints. Since the days of the Bible when saints were inspired, there
have been but few of them roving the earth. Latter day saints are
material, hence, susceptible to all the temptations and frailties of
this world. When you get acquainted with a man who boasts that he has no
bad habits, look out for him, he will spring something on you that will
outweigh all the minor defects that scar the character of the ordinary
man. I do not say there are no good men, there are; but the man who
pretends to go through this world on a record of no bad habits
accumulates a heap of inward secretiveness. It keeps growing. He gets
swelled up, and some day he breaks out and the enormity of his break
surprises all. 'He had no bad habits,' that's what they all said. No, he
had no bad habits that were apparent; he was a sneak. In order to
conceal his little sins, he deceived himself