"Meanwhile, I am getting short of funds, and cannot keep up the pace much longer, unless my other plan succeeds. But should I fail altogether----" and he became absorbed in deep study, silent and motionless as the statue of Lincoln by which he stood, but only for a moment. "Everybody here lionizes me, believing I am a genuine nobleman." And then he looked up with a far-off, triumphant expression in his eyes and a cunning smile on his lips, "My lord will borrow a few thousand on his--name--just for a temporary accommodation, and then he will vanish." A slight noise behind startled him and caused him to look about; but, discovering no one, he regained his composure. To make sure, however, he called in a low voice, "Jack! Jack!" Whereupon the old cripple again stood forth from his concealment, this time from behind the trunk of the wide spreading oak and, leaning on his stick, obsequiously doffed his hat. "I uncover to a prince of villainy." "Ha, ha, to my arms, you rascally imposter!" joyfully exclaimed Rutley, as he embraced him. Halting and drawing away in pretended surprise, Jack exclaimed with dreamy reflection, "Naw, Eesa, not-a bees-a da imposeator. Eesa be Ital-e-own!" "Splendid, Jack!" exclaimed Rutley with admiration. "Your disguise is perfect, but"--and Rutley laughed--"a little pale about the gills, eh?" "Eesa look-a like-a ma fadder," and Jack proudly expanded himself. "Make-a da great-a soldier. Note-a da pale here--Naw," touching his ears. "Garibaldi geev-a ma fadder dees-s da Palestrino," and Jack threw open his coat and proudly displayed a medal. "Palestrino!" exclaimed Rutley gleefully. "Jack, things are coming our way with a rush. Did you hear her--the maiden fair, with the blue black hair, how she plays into our hands?" Jack grinned and chuckled, "Ah, ah--a Portland rose, Phil!" "Incomparably beautiful, Jack! But, oh, such devilish thorns!" "Good for twenty thousand simoleons at any rate? Eh, Phil?" "Twenty thousand or bust, Jack," grinned Rutley. "You watch me do the trick. I'll make Thorpe wish he were dead. I shall connect his wife's name instead of Hazel's with Corway." "What!" gasped Jack, dismayed by Rutley's daring. "By a little juggling of facts, as it were, I'll make Thorpe believe Corway wears the ring given him as a love token by Constance. It was Thorpe's gift to his wife. Do you comprehend? Now, do you understand how simple a thing it will be to make Thorpe wish he were dead? Remember how he and old Harris broke up our investment company? "Maybe I don't," replied Jack dolefully, rubbing his stomach in a significant manner. "And, Jack!" and Rutley glinted at him meaningly and said very seriously, "That fellow Corway suspects me." "The devil he does! We must get him out of our way." "Tomorrow!"--and for the space of perhaps five seconds they looked meaningly at each other. Then Rutley broke the silence. "The child is in the house," continued Rutley seriously and in a low voice.