o tell your uncle how it
worked; it's one on me, all right."

"Suppose we put it all back and--oh Lord, what's the use?" he ended
suddenly.

"Cut it short--what the hell do I care?"

He dropped suddenly into the chair behind him; his head fell over on
his arms, and the stiff hat rolled along the floor.

The young man stared curiously at him, but the weakness was genuine;
every muscle was relaxed.

Lindsay's face softened a little. "As far as that goes, you're quite
right," he said curtly, "though it's a little late in the day. Look
here, Caroline. Mr.--Mr. Barker and I don't agree very well on the
best way to teach people to lock their houses. I--it seems to me a
pretty poor joke. Uncle Joe never meant it to go quite so far, I'm
quite sure," he concluded jerkily. "I--I want to do the best thing
all round, but," looking anxiously towards her for a second, "this
is a little too--a little too--"

Her face cleared at his change of tone. "I know," she returned
eagerly, "I know just what you mean, Lindsay. I think so, too.
Anybody would think--"

"That's it," he said briefly.

"You say you thought so yourself at first," she added, looking
uncomfortably at the bent figure in the chair, "and that made him
feel--"

"Well, well, I understand now," Lindsay interrupted irritably, "it's
all right now, Caroline. Hadn't you better go? Mr.--Mr. Barker and I
will come along later."

"Oh, I'll wait and go with you, Lin," she returned, almost assured,
now, "why do I have to go first?"

The man lifted his head; at sight of the young fellow's nervous
perplexity he smiled faintly.

"Suppose you run along, Missy," he suggested; "your cousin and I
want to talk business, and--and then I must be hurrying on--hurrying
on," he repeated vaguely, with dazed eyes. He raised his hand to
his head; Lindsay started forward, the revolver loose in his hand.

"Where did you get that pin?" he cried sharply. "Give that to me."

The man fingered the pin thoughtfully. "You're 'way off there," he
said. "That's not--that's not--"

"Not one of your 'jokes'?" Lindsay's voice rang disagreeably. "I
happen to know the contrary. I'll trouble you to hand it over. I'll
soon know to whom it belongs."

Caroline, hanging over the sill, lost in talkative admiration of the
Great Dane, was oblivious for the moment of the room behind her.

"It belongs to my son," said the man. There was a moment of silence.
Outside the great hound whined softly.

"His