“But you were mistaken,” said I, scornfully. “The thief who stole the government money and bought my bonds didn’t pay me but ten thousand. How much was missing?” “A matter of twenty thousand dollars.” “I suppose you’d been after me just as hard if your thief had bought twenty bonds of me and passed over the whole twenty thousand dollars?” said I, with an attempt at a little sneer, though not wishing to play the game I was playing too far. “Well, it looks as if you were the victim of circumstances, Miles,” said the colonel; “but it’s too late now.” “Not to get my money back,” said I, firmly. “Yes, too late for that,” was his reply and just as firmly. “You mean that I can’t have the ten thousand dollars that rightfully belongs to me?” “That’s it, Miles. The money was stolen from the government. It has been identified by the proper authorities. You had it in your possession. That you came honestly by it I shall not dispute. I’m taking your word for that. If I didn’t, you’d have to produce the man who bought the bonds, and perhaps you’d have to go farther and prove what bonds you had to sell.” “So I can’t get any part of the money?” “No! It’ll have to go back to the United States Treasury,” said Whiteley. I knew that it was hopeless to argue further. Stuart told me it was. “It’s mighty hard,” I said, “to shoulder such a loss, but I suppose I must. As you say, I had stolen property.” That end of the game was up. I had played and lost. But Van Orden’s cowardice angered me. Here was a man who owed me five thousand dollars. His fear had made him, without good reason, betray me. “I’d like to ask a favor of you, colonel,” I said, as the interview came to an end. “Meet me at the Stuyvesant Bank as soon after ten o’clock to-morrow morning as you can. Will you?” “I’ll be there.” With that we drove down-town. My man put the gentlemen at their doors, and I went home, satisfied that I’d made the Secret Service chief believe I’d come by the money honestly. But it had cost me nine thousand dollars, not including other expenses, and the end might not yet be in sight. I was at the bank at ten promptly the next day, and without any warning walked into Van Orden’s office. I thought he’d drop to the floor. His cheeks grew white, and he clutched at his beard nervously. He thought I was in danger of arrest and that he might be involved. I was glad to make him suffer for his treatment of me. “You--you--ought not to come here, Mr. Miles,” he said in a voice that trembled. “The Secret Service men are likely to drop in here at any moment. Please go away. I--” “Let them, Van Orden,” I answered savagely. “However, I didn’t come here for trouble. I want a settlement. I must and will withdraw my account from this bank.” “Very well, you shall, Mr. Miles--as soon as I can balance the books!”