ot him, didn't you? I _told_ you he was a
crook. Just the same, old man, you ran a terrible risk and I feel
mighty guilty. Why, those fellows would have killed you."

"Probably."

"Why didn't you take along a policeman or somebody?"

"And miss all the fun? Miss my pay for the trip? I agreed to take my
commission in thrills."

The jeweler was frankly curious. "Weren't you frightened?"

"Frightened? No." Gray shook his head. "I've never been really afraid
of anything or anybody, so far as I recall. I've never been able to
understand the necessity of being frightened. I dare say the capacity
for enjoying that particular emotion was omitted from my make-up--the
result of some peculiar prenatal influence, probably. I'm sorry, too,
for fear must have a fascination and I like unusual sensations."

"Speaking of your commissions, how am I going to pay you--not for the
sale you made, although I wouldn't have done as well, but for the loss
you saved the firm and for the risk you ran?"

Gray felt a momentary desire to have done with pretense, to confess his
true condition and to beg not only a suitable reward for his services,
but also as large a loan as Coverly could spare. It is hard to maintain
an attitude of opulence on less than nothing; it would be so much
easier to have done with this counterfeit gesture and trust to a
straightforward appeal. But he dared not yield to the impulse.

"You may give me anything you see fit," he declared, "and I sha'n't
embarrass you by refusing. On the contrary, go as strongly as you
possibly can."

Coverly actually appeared to be relieved at this statement, but he
inquired, curiously: "What have you got up your sleeve? You don't need
money."

"Obviously not. But I know a needy object of charity; a worthy case, I
assure you. I can scarcely call him a friend, but I used to admire him
greatly, and he is still an agreeable companion--a man at once capable,
extravagant, entertaining, dissipated. He is in a bad way, temporarily,
and can scarcely afford even the bare necessities of life. It is only
with my help, in fact, that he maintains its luxuries. Your money shall
go to him, and with every dollar of it that he squanders, there shall
arise an earnest orison to you."

The jeweler was delighted. "Good!" he cried. "I detest the deserving
poor as heartily as you do. And now I'd like to open a bottle of
champagne with our breakfast."

On the very day that the new sign, "Tom and Bob Parke