with a white powder, and the
early flowers looked supremely miserable in their wintry setting.

The prison clock struck eight, and a wicket-gate opened. A man slouched
out, his jacket buttoned up to his neck, his cap pulled over his eyes. At
sight of him, Lyne dropped the newspaper he had been reading, opened the
door of the car and jumped out, walking towards the released prisoner.

"Well, Sam," he said, genially "you didn't expect me?"

The man stopped as if he had been shot, and stood staring at the
fur-coated figure. Then:

"Oh, Mr. Lyne," he said brokenly. "Oh, guv'nor!" he choked, and tears
streamed down his face, and he gripped the outstretched hand in both of
his, unable to speak.

"You didn't think I'd desert you, Sam, eh?" said Mr. Lyne, all aglow with
consciousness of his virtue.

"I thought you'd given me up, sir," said Sam Stay huskily. "You're a
gentleman, you are, sir, and I ought to be ashamed of myself!"

"Nonsense, nonsense, Sam! Jump into the car, my lad. Go along. People
will think you're a millionaire."

The man gulped, grinned sheepishly, opened the door and stepped in, and
sank with a sigh of comfort into the luxurious depths of the big brown
cushions.

"Gawd! To think that there are men like you in the world, sir! Why, I
believe in angels, I do!"

"Nonsense Sam. Now you come along to my flat, and I'm going to give you a
good breakfast and start you fair again."

"I'm going to try and keep straight, sir, I am s'help me!"

It may be said in truth that Mr. Lyne did not care very much whether Sam
kept straight or not. He might indeed have been very much disappointed if
Sam had kept to the straight and narrow path. He "kept" Sam as men keep
chickens and prize cows, and he "collected" Sam as other men collect
stamps and china. Sam was his luxury and his pose. In his club he boasted
of his acquaintance with this representative of the criminal classes--for
Sam was an expert burglar and knew no other trade--and Sam's adoration
for him was one of his most exhilarating experiences.

And that adoration was genuine. Sam would have laid down his life for the
pale-faced man with the loose mouth. He would have suffered himself to be
torn limb from limb if in his agony he could have brought ease or
advancement to the man who, to him, was one with the gods.

Originally, Thornton Lyne had found Sam whilst that artist was engaged in
burgling the house of his future benefactor. It was a whim of Lyne's