Sharpman arose and began pacing up and down the room. He was inclined to yield to the man's demand. The Burnham suit was drawing rapidly to a successful close. If this fellow should go on the witness-stand and tell his plausible story, the entire scheme might be wrecked beyond retrieval. But it was very annoying to be bulldozed into a thing in this way. The lawyer's stubborn nature rebelled against it powerfully. It would be a great pleasure, he thought, to defy the fellow and turn him into the street. Then a new fear came to him. What would be the effect of this man's story, with its air of genuineness, on the mind of so conscientious a boy as Ralph? He surely could not afford to have Ralph's faith interfered with; that would be certain to bring disaster. He made up his mind at once. Turning quickly on his heel to face his visitor, he said:-- "I want you to understand that I'm not afraid of you nor of your story, but I don't want to be bothered with you. Now, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you one hundred dollars in cash to-night, on condition that you will leave this town by the first train in the morning, that you'll not go to Wilkesbarre, that you'll not come back here inside of a year, and that you'll not mention a word of this matter to any one so long as you shall live." The lawyer spoke with determined earnestness. Rhyming Joe looked up at the ceiling as if in doubt. Finally, he said:-- "Split the difference and call it even, A hundred and fifty and I'll be leavin'." Sharpman was whirling the knob of his safe back and forth. At last he flung open the safe-door. "I don't care," he said, looking around at his visitor, "whether your story is true or false. We'll call it true if that will please you. But if I ever hear of your lisping it again to any living person, I give you my word for it you shall be sorry. I pay you your own price for your silence; now I want you to understand that I've bought it and it's mine." He had taken a package of bank-notes from a drawer in his safe, had counted out a portion of them, and now handed them to Rhyming Joe. "Certainly," said the young man, "certainly; no one can say that I have ever failed to keep an honest obligation; and between you and me there shall be the utmost confidence and good faith. "Though woman's vain, and man deceives, There's always honor among--gentlemen. "I beg your pardon! it's the first time in fifteen years that I have failed to find an appropriate rhyming word; but the exigencies of a moment, you will understand, may destroy both rhyme and reason." He was folding the bills carefully and placing them in a shabby purse while Sharpman looked down on him with undisguised ill will.