street. As they proceeded, he was
internally bracing himself for a struggle, and putting large bales of
self-assurance around where they would be likely to obstruct the advance
of discovery and defeat.

By the time they reached a brown-stone house, hidden away in a street of
shops and warehouses, his mental balance was so admirable that he seemed
to be in possession of enough information and brains to ruin half of the
city, and he was no more concerned about the king, queen, deuce, and
tray than if they had been discards that didn't fit his draw. He infused
so much confidence and courage into his companion, that the old man went
along the street, breathing war, like a decrepit hound on the scent of
new blood.

He ambled up the steps of the brown-stone house as if he were charging
earthworks. He unlocked the door and they passed along a dark hallway.
In a rear room they found a man seated at table engaged with a very late
breakfast. He had a diamond in his shirt front and a bit of egg on his
cuff.

"George," said the old man in a fierce voice that came from his aged
throat with a sound like the crackle of burning twigs, "here's my
lawyer, Mr. er--ah--Smith, and we want to know what you did with the
draft that was sent on 25th June."

The old man delivered the words as if each one was a musket shot.
George's coffee spilled softly upon the tablecover, and his fingers
worked convulsively upon a slice of bread. He turned a white, astonished
face toward the old man and the intrepid Thomas.

The latter, straight and tall, with a highly legal air, stood at the old
man's side. His glowing eyes were fixed upon the face of the man at the
table. They seemed like two little detective cameras taking pictures of
the other man's thoughts.

"Father, what d--do you mean," faltered George, totally unable to
withstand the two cameras and the highly legal air.

"What do I mean?" said the old man with a feeble roar as from an ancient
lion. "I mean that draft--that's what I mean. Give it up or
we'll--we'll"--he paused to gain courage by a glance at the formidable
figure at his side--"we'll put the screws on you."

"Well, I was--I was only borrowin' it for 'bout a month," said George.

"Ah," said Tom.

George started, glared at Tom, and then began to shiver like an animal
with a broken back. There were a few moments of silence. The old man was
fumbling about in his mind for more imprecations. George was wilting and
turning limp b