“Well, you haven’t got rich over interfering with my plans,” I said, “and it’s true you might get a stake if you caught that bird in the tree, but you haven’t got it yet. Now,” I went on, taking a big roll of greenbacks from my pocket, “you must know something about bird-catching when you play faro, and how mighty uncertain it is.” Davis started from his chair. Not unaware was he of the fact that employers who take the pains to ascertain what their employees do are very apt to distrust those who gamble much. I knew, too, that he was thinking hard, and I could see that his eyes curiously fastened on the bills, as though he would fathom how much I had. I could have told him that I held eight one-hundred-dollar bills in the roll, but said nothing for fully five minutes. Before Davis spoke I realized that he would fall. His eyes betrayed him. “Since you look at it in that light,” he said, slowly, and in a half-whisper--for, though we were alone, his wife, a goodly, honest dame, so far as I could tell on short acquaintance, was in an adjoining room hushing a babe to sleep on her breast--“since you look at it in that light, I won’t see any one--” “Since you look at it in that light, Tom,” said I, copying his words, “there are eight hundred dollars,” and I forced the bills into his hand. I must say his fingers trembled, and let me say it truthfully to his credit, if credit it be, his hand seemed to close on the money most reluctantly. But I had him, and no faltering on my part would lose me the victory. To make the corrupt bargain more binding, I said, meaning every word, which Davis knew full well: “If anything comes off, you’ll get ten per cent of it; better promise I can’t give, for my word is as strong as my bond.” Davis sat rigid, grasping the money. His big fist shook, and there was a dazed look in his eyes. “No--man,” said he; “don’t offer me anything like that. I don’t want the bank’s money. I’ll just keep away--that’s all.” “Talk no more about that now, Tom. We will let time deal with the rest. Just keep your hands off and your tongue dumb; don’t breathe a word about money out there,” and I pointed to the next room, where came sounds of a fond mother crooning to her babe. “Good-by, Tom,” were my parting words. He was a sorry, pale picture, I trow. Many times since I’ve been smitten with remorse; but then it was different then--years change one so. It had not taken long to corrupt Davis, but he was a hard proposition, much harder than I’ve been able in my poor way to make clear.