ark, as Mr. Graeme
saw.

"I 'vested it."

"You mean Mr. Johnson invested it for you? By the way, what is his first
name!"

"Yes, sir. His name 's de Rev. Amos Johnson."

"By George! I thought so," said Graeme, half aloud. "I saw him at the
races last week. I knew I had seen him before." His countenance grew
suddenly cheerful.

"What did he give you to show for it?"

"He did n't gi' me nothin'. He 's gwine to draw the intrust for me."

"Oh! I thought so. Well, I want to see the Rev. Mr. Johnson when he
comes next time. When do you expect him?"

"I ain't 'pectin' him 't all. He comes sometimes. He was a friend o'
Caesar's."

"Ah! he was! So I thought. Comes to smoke a cigar, I suppose!"

She looked so uneasy that he went on casually: "Well, it 's very well;
always keep in with the cloth. He is a fine preacher, I hear! Keeps
quite up with the times--interested in the races in more senses than
one."

"Yes, sir; he preaches very well."

"That is all. Well, your friend must have 'rec'nition.'"

The old woman withdrew.

The following day Graeme went down to a detective agency and left a
memorandum. A few days later he received a message from the agency:
"Yes, he is the same man. He frequents the pool-rooms a good deal. Came
from Kentucky. He used to be known as 'Amos Brown.'"

IV

For some days Mr. Graeme took to coming home earlier than usual, and one
evening he was rewarded. Just after his arrival little Ben came in,
and, climbing up to his cigar box, took out several cigars, and silently
withdrew. As soon as he had disappeared his father stepped to the
telephone, and, calling up the detective agency, asked that an officer
be sent around to his house immediately. A few minutes later the officer
arrived, and after a few words with him Mr. Graeme stationed him at the
back gate and strolled back toward the kitchen. As he softly approached
the door he heard voices within-one of them his little boy's voice, the
other the deep, unctuous tones of a negro man. The child was begging the
latter to blow smoke-wreaths, and the man was bartering with him.

"Well, you must get me _more_ cigars; remember what I told you--six
wreaths for one cigar."

At this moment the mammy evidently came in, for Mr. Graeme heard the man
caution the child, and heard her voice for the first time,

"What dat you telling dat chile?" she demanded, suspiciously.

"Nothing. I was just entertaining him by blowing a few of those ar