ed of the money.

"He finally threatened to throw me out for the 'kite-flier' I
evidently was. That angered me; I picked up a heavy ruler and
threatened to knock his head in. At last, my eye caught sight of the
postal stamp of Campbeltown on a letter among his unopened mail lying
on the counter. And, sure enough, it contained Macdonald's payment. I
got the money from Maguire and left immediately, as happy as a king.

"Before going home to break the good news to Brenchfield, I returned
to my job in order to tell Macaskill the foreman that I intended
taking the afternoon off. When I got there, they used me to clear off
some fallen timber from the right-of-way and that delayed me quite a
bit. I didn't see Macaskill, so left without saying anything in
particular to anyone.

"When I got back home, Brenchfield was sitting at the kitchen table
with his head resting on his hands. He had been writing on a sheet of
paper. I ran over to him and clapped my hand on his back. I threw my
roll of bills on the table right under his nose. He stared at the
bundle stupidly, then sprang up with an oath on his lips. Jim, I can
see it all again as if it had taken place ten minutes ago. I can hear
him word for word as if my mind had become for the time being a
recording phonograph.

"I could see at a glance that there was something very far wrong. His
eyes were bloodshot and he was deathly white.

"'Good God!' he cried, pushing his fingers through his hair.

"'Graham,--whatever is the matter with you?' I asked. 'You surely
haven't been drinking? You're ill.'

"He laughed.

"'I'm all right! Nothing wrong with my health! Guess it's my morals
that have gone fluey. So you got the money? My God!--if I'd only known
that."

"He put his hand in his back pocket, drew out a bundle of bills and
tossed it on the table beside mine. It was money, Jim,--money by the
heap.

"'Good heavens, man!--where did you get it?' I cried.

"'Ay!--you may well ask. I had to have it--you know; so I went out and
got it. Stole it--or rather, borrowed it when the other fellow wasn't
looking. See that over there!' He pointed to a basin on the
wash-stand. 'Look inside, Phil. It's red. Look at your shirt lying in
the corner there. It's bloody too. God!--the damned stuff is still all
over me. It sticks like glue. It won't come off.'

"His voice was gradually getting louder, so I went to him and clapped
my hand over his mouth. I cautioned him to be quiet. For the f