"You bet yer life. She's a peach." "Well, I'm interested. What do I owe you?" "How'd a dime be?" "All right." Harold tossed him the coin. As he was going out the door he stopped and looked back. "Say, mister, the girl had done give me one dime, but I thought you'd want to go fifty-fifty with her." He hurried down the stairway without waiting for a reply. As Harold tore the letter open he thought, "That boy may land in the penitentiary, but his chances to escape the poor house are good. However, I am inclined to believe I would be willing to go fifty-fifty with Ruth in a life partnership, but the one great obstacle is I can't furnish my fifty." The letter was brief but interesting: Dear Mr. King: I would like to have a talk with you. If it will not greatly inconvenience you I would be pleased to have you call at my home this evening. Yours truly, Ruth Babcock. "There is nothing to do but to go, if I do have to wear the old suit," he thought. He tried to conjecture what it could be that she wanted to talk to him about. Maybe she had some suggestion to help him secure the city job. Her employer, Jim Stover, was regarded as the political boss of the town and whatever he said went with the city officials. He was quite sure Ruth was going to make a suggestion to help him to secure Stover's assistance. Wilson had already talked with Stover in his interest but had not secured a definite answer. That evening Harold got out his best suit and brushed it thoroughly. It was badly worn. When he had dressed he viewed himself in the mirror. "Harold, old boy," he said to himself, "there is no mistaking the fact you are run-down, you look seedy. You need a new casing but will have to make out with the old one for awhile." As Harold walked down the street to the car line he met Golter. Harold noticed his well groomed appearance. When they spoke, the supercilious smirk on Golter's face nettled Harold. "Come in, Mr. King. Let me have your hat. Ruth ran over to a neighbor's. She said if you called before she returned to tell you that she would be back in a few minutes." "How are you, Mr. Babcock? I believe you are looking better." "If I could only get over having this pain in my head. Sometimes I do not have it for two or three days and then it will come back and I suffer terribly. I worry lots, Mr. King, because I can't remember my business affairs before I was hurt." "It may come to you some time." "I hope so. Not long ago in my dream I remembered the rest of the safe combination." "Are you sure that was really your safe combination?" "Yes, positive of it. I had remembered all but the last number before the dream." "Did you remember anything else besides the combination?" "Yes, I dreamed that I showed the combination to a man in whom I had confidence and that he stole the money." "Whose money was in the safe, Mr. Babcock?" "My money." "Are you sure you had money?" "Yes, I have always remembered that."