“Well, it won’t take long to tell it. After the governor signed the pardon I told the warden to take Avery downstairs and get him a drink: the poor devil was all in. And then Tate came to, blubbering like the vile coward he is, and began pleading for mercy: on his knees, mind you; on his _knees_! God! It was horrible--horrible beyond anything I ever dreamed of--to see him groveling there. I supposed, of course, the governor would turn him over to the police. I was all primed for that, and Tate expected it and bawled like a sick calf. But what he said was--what the governor said was, and he said it the way they say ‘dust to dust’ over a grave--‘You poor fool, for such beasts as you the commonwealth has no punishment that wouldn’t lighten the load you’ve got to carry around with you till you die!’ That’s all there was of it! That’s exactly what he said, and can you beat it? I got a room for Tate at the club, and told one of the Japs to put him to bed.” “But the governor had no right,” began Ramsay eagerly; “he had no _right_----” “The king can do no wrong! And, if you fellows don’t mind, the incident is closed, and we’ll never speak of it again.” WRONG NUMBER I They called him Wrong Number in the bank because he happened so often and was so annoying. His presence in the White River National was painful to bookkeepers, tellers and other practical persons connected with this financial Gibraltar because, without having any definite assignment, he was always busy. He was carried on the rolls as a messenger, though he performed none of the duties commonly associated with the vocation, calling or job of a bank messenger. No one assumed responsibility for Wrong Number, not even the Cashier or the First Vice President, and such rights, powers and immunities as he enjoyed were either self-conferred or were derived from the President, Mr. Webster G. Burgess.