I was greatly minded to turn on my heel and tell him to go to the deuce, if he chose. But his manner was wholly ingenuous, and "after all," I said to myself, "I'm tired and he 's amusing. It's something after 8 o'clock and no one will be here at such an hour." At all events I disliked a scene, and so I simply acquiesced, and took him to a quiet corner of the large dining-room, where I seated myself in such a way as to have my back to whomsoever might come in. Without consulting the taste of my guest, I ordered a steak with mushrooms, potatoes, a salad, dessert and a bottle of claret, and began to read the evening paper. For perhaps ten minutes we both were silent. I glanced at Checkers several times as I folded my paper in or out. He seemed to be lost in a reverie. But at last his thoughts came back to earth, and glancing up he said very softly, "The last time I took supper here was with my wife a year ago." "Your wife," I exclaimed, starting with surprise. "You do n't mean to tell me you have a wife?" "I had a wife," he answered sorrowfully, "but----" "I beg you pardon, Checkers," I said, "I hope I have n't hurt your feelings." "No, you have n't hurt them," he replied. "I 've got my feelings educated. I 've had so many ups and downs I 've learned to take my medicine. But I 'll bet I 've had the toughest luck of any guy that ever lived. A' year ago I had money, a wife and friends, and was doing the Vanderbilt act. In two short weeks I lost them all. I 've been 'on my rollers' ever since. "But say, you wouldn't have known me if you 'd seen me here with my wife that time--my glad rags on, a stove-pipe lid, patent leather kicks and a stone on my front. We came to Chicago to take in the Fair, and dropped in here to eat, one night. "We sat at that table over there; I remember it as though it was yesterday. I ordered all kinds of supper, and at last the waiter brings in some cheese and crackers. It was a kind of a greenish, mouldy cheese--Rocquefort! Yes, I believe that's it. I goes against a little piece of it, and 'on the grave,' I like to fainted. Good! Well, maybe you think it's good, but scratch your Uncle Dudley out of any race where they enter Rocquefort. "Yes; those were happy days for me. I hate to think about them now. I had a good time while it lasted, though, and when they got me 'on the tram,' I had to go to hustlin'. Well, here comes supper. Excuse me now, while I get busy with a piece of that steak." "But, Checkers," I expostulated, "I 'd like to hear the particulars. You must have an interesting story to tell. And if you don't mind----" "Oh, I do n't know. It's a hard luck story. I've had the hot end of it most of my life. But you can see for yourself that I'm no 'scrub.' I come from good people, and I 've lived with good people. I can put up a parlor talk, or a bar-room talk. I've seen it all. But of course when a fellow 'hits the toboggan,' he gets to going down mighty fast."