ecure some information if I can."

The next Sunday evening he called at the house of the philanthropist,
and sent in his name.

Thomas Browning went himself to the door. He was afraid King might be
wearing the same disreputable suit in which he had made his former
visit. But to his relief his visitor looked quite respectable.

"Do you wish to see me?" he asked.

"Yes; but only for a social call. I am not acquainted in Milwaukee,
and it does me good to see an old friend and comrade."

"I have not much time to spare, but come in!"

They went into the philanthropist's library, formerly described.

"Have you found anything to do?" asked Browning.

"Yes."

"What is it?"

King answered the question.

"It is not much," he added, "but will do for the present."

"At any rate, it is considerably better than entering a house at night
and hiding under the bed," said Browning, dryly.

"So it is," answered King, smiling. "You must make allowance for my
destitute condition. I little thought that I was in the house of an
old friend. I have been asking about you, Tom Butler--I beg pardon,
Mr. Browning--and I find that you stand very high in Milwaukee."

A shade of annoyance showed itself on the philanthropist's face when
King referred to him under his former name, but when his high standing
was referred to he smiled complacently.

"Yes," he said, "I have been fortunate enough to win the good opinion
of my fellow-citizens."

"Some one told me that you would probably run for mayor some day."

"It may be. I have been sounded on the subject."

"The worst of running for office is that if a man has ever done
anything discreditable it is sure to be brought out against him."

"I hope you don't mean to imply that I have ever done anything
discreditable," said Browning, sharply.

"Oh, dear, no! How could I think such a thing? But sometimes false
charges are brought. If you had ever betrayed a trust, or kept money
belonging to another, of course, it would hurt you."

"Certainly it would," said the philanthropist, his voice betraying
some nervousness, "but I am glad to say that my conscience is clear on
that point."

"By the way, Jack, let me send for a bottle of wine. We'll drink to
the memory of old time."

"With all my heart, Tom. I see you're the right sort. When you are
nominated for office I will work for you."

Browning smiled graciously on his visitor, and the interview closed
pleasantly.

"He's afraid of me