the credit of Major Dudley. That would
cause comment, and Major Dudley would naturally and rightly refuse to
touch a cent of it. And I would be in bad odour with them and the
community. My plan is to make Major Dudley deposit this money himself."

He stopped for a moment to enjoy the look of undisguised curiosity and
blank amazement on Dillard's face.

"Now I know something of the family history, in spite of the fact that I
have but recently become a citizen of the town. There was a brother, you
perhaps know this also, who went west many years ago, and disappeared
soon after. They suppose he died long ago, and very likely he did, but
for our purposes we will say he died last week. He was on his way back
to Kentucky, to see his brother once more in the flesh. He reached St.
Louis, and was taken ill. His sickness assumed a malignant turn, and he
realized that he must die. He sent for a reliable lawyer, who happened
to be my college friend and chum, Will Porter. While not attaining
riches, this brother, Arthur Dudley, had something over two thousand
dollars in cash with him. The surplus was enough for his board, doctor
bill, lawyer fee and burial expenses, and he had Porter purchase a draft
with the two thousand left, payable to his brother in Kentucky. This
draft Porter forwarded to Major Dudley, with a brief letter explaining
all the circumstances. Now if you don't think I'm a first-class rascal
with a long head for schemes I don't know why. Can you find a flaw in
this skein of base duplicity?"

Dillard rose to his feet and slowly shook his head.

"You're a marvel. You've got it. When are you going to do this?"

"Tonight. Now. We'll have to explain the whole thing to Porter, but he's
true as steel, and will do his part without fail. Two days for my letter
to go to St. Louis; two for his to get back. Major and Miss Dudley will
be relieved of their financial embarrassment the fourth day from
tomorrow!"

John took a pen and endorsed the draft to the order of his western
friend in a firm, bold hand, free from flourishes.

Ten minutes later Dillard was gone, and by the light of a smoky lamp a
man sat driving a pen frantically across sheet after sheet of paper. He
had to make things plain, or Porter would think his mind had gone wrong.
He wrote feverishly, and soon the message was done, sealed and
addressed, with the draft inside. He looked at the envelope for several
moments fixedly, then suddenly he sighed, cast his a