matters with Desmond; it doesn't leave me anything to go on
with," and he pocketed his cheque with a scowl.

Plank was discreetly silent.

"And that is not what I chased you for, either," continued Mortimer. "I
didn't intend to say anything about Desmond; I was going to fix it
in another way!" He cast an involuntary and sinister glance at the
elevators gliding ceaselessly up and down at the end of the vast marble
rotunda; then his protruding eyes sought Plank's again:

"Beverly, old boy, I've got a certain mealy-faced hypocrite where any
decent man would like to have him--by the scruff of his neck. He's fit
only to kick; and I'm going to kick him good and plenty; and in the
process he's going to let go of several things." Mortimer leered,
pleased with his own similes, then added rather hastily: "I mean, he's
going to drop several things that don't belong to him. Leave it to me to
shake him down; he'll drop them all right. ... One of 'em's yours."

Plank looked at him.

"I told you once that I'd let you know when to step up and say 'Good
evening' didn't I?"

Plank continued to stare.

"Didn't I?" repeated Mortimer peevishly, beginning to lose countenance.

"I don't understand you," said Plank, "and I don't think I want to
understand you."

"What do you mean?" demanded Mortimer thickly; "don't you want to marry
that girl!" but he shrank dismayed under the slow blaze that lighted
Plank's blue eyes.

"All right," he stammered, struggling to his fat legs and instinctively
backing away; "I thought you meant business. I--what the devil do I care
who you marry! It's the last time I try to do anything for you, or for
anybody else! Mark that, my friend. I've plenty to worry over; I've
a lot to keep me busy without lying awake to figure out how to do
kindnesses to old friends. Damn this ingratitude, anyway!"

Plank gazed at him for a moment; the anger in his face had died out.

"I am not ungrateful," he said. "You may say almost anything except
that, Leroy. I am not disloyal, no matter what else I may be. But you
have made a bad mistake. You made it that day at Black Fells when you
offered to interfere. I supposed you understood then that I could never
tolerate from anybody anything of such a nature. It appears that you
didn't. However, you understand it now. So let us forget the matter."

But Mortimer, keenly appreciative of the pleasures of being
misunderstood, squeezed some moisture out of his distended eyes, and