eater. Indeed, he was as
jolly and pleasant as a man who had no evil design in his heart.

The meal was finally concluded. Oscar had placed his end of it well and
appeared about as jolly as a man should appear who had imbibed his share
of several bottles of wine.

"What shall we do?" asked Girard. "I don't wish to go to bed; I prefer
having a nice time. Can't we go somewhere and have a jolly little game
of draw?"

Oscar was not loath. He desired to let the men draw him, believing that
while they were playing their little trick he might work a little on his
own hook.

"Hang it!" said our hero, "I am not in the habit of staying away from my
home all night, but since I've started in I don't care what I do for the
rest of the night."

"Where can we go?" asked Thatford.

"To some hotel. We will take a room," suggested Oscar. His suggestion
was only a "flyer." He knew the men did not wish to go to a hotel. It
was a part of their game to draw him to some place where they could open
up the scheme they had in their minds.

"I have a friend who always keeps open house."

Thatford laughed and said:

"Yes, a pretty close friend. You want us to go to your bachelor
quarters."

"Well, why not at my rooms? We can play as long as we please and turn in
when we get ready."

"I have taken advantage of your hospitality so often I'd rather cry
off," said Thatford.

"Oh, nonsense! come on. What do you say, Dunne?"

The intimacy under the influence of the wine had progressed so far that
the men addressed each other as though they had been friends for years.
Wine softens down the austerities and makes apparent friends with great
readiness. It was decided to go to the bachelor rooms of Girard, and the
three men passed to the street. Oscar meantime became quite gay and very
plainly showed the effects of the wine, but really he was fearfully on
the alert, and when we write fearfully we mean it just as we write it;
for he did not know at what moment one of the men might plunge a knife
through his heart or send a bullet through his brain. He knew that their
purpose was a dire one, and the only question was, how would they work
out their plan? Keen were his glances under his seeming inebriety, and
he beheld the men exchange glances, and also recognized looks of
triumph, intimating, "We've done it well. He is ours."

The three men walked on and at length halted in front of a house which
our hero had once had under suspicion.

"Her