"Ah! let me explain that matter to you. The train that went through the bridge was the express. The local was twenty minutes behind it. Old Simon and his grandchild were on the local to the bridge. An hour later they came down to the city on the train which brought the wounded passengers. I had this that night from the old man's own lips. I repeat to you, sir, the boy Ralph is Simon Craft's grandson, and I know it." In the outer room there was a slight noise as of some person drawing in his breath sharply and with pain. Neither of the men heard it. Rhyming Joe was too intent on giving due weight to his pretended disclosure; Lawyer Sharpman was too busy studying the chances of that disclosure being true. It was evident that the young man was acquainted with his subject. If his story were false he had it too well learned to admit of successful contradiction. It was therefore of no use to argue with him, but Sharpman thought he would see what was lying back of this. "Well," he said, calmly, "I don't see how this affects our case. Suppose you can prove your story to be true; what then?" The young man did not answer immediately. He took a package of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Sharpman. It was declined. He lighted one for himself, leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and began to study the ceiling through the rings of blue smoke which came curling from his nostrils. Finally he said: "What would you consider my silence on this subject worth, for a period of say twenty-four hours?" "I do not know that your silence will be of material benefit to us." "Well, perhaps not. My knowledge, however, may be of material injury to you." "In what way?" "By the disclosure of it to your opponent." "What would he do with it?" "Use it as evidence in this case." "Well, had you not better go to him?" Rhyming Joe laid his cigarette aside, straightened up in his chair, and again faced the lawyer squarely. "Look here, Mr. Sharpman," he said, "you know, as well as I do, that the knowledge I hold is extremely dangerous to you. I can back up my assertion by any amount of corroborative detail. I am thoroughly familiar with the facts, and if I were to go on the witness-stand to-morrow for the defendant in this suit, your hopes and schemes would vanish into thin air. Now, I have no great desire to do this; I have still a friendly feeling left for Old Simon, and as for the boy, he is a nice fellow, and I would like to see him prosper. But in my circumstances, as they are at present, I do not feel that I can afford to let slip an opportunity to turn an honest penny. "If a penny saved is a penny earned, Then a penny found is a penny turned." Sharpman was still looking calmly at his visitor. "Well?" he said, inquiringly.