“It’s a puzzle,” returned Kenyon. “Of course the thing’s not mine. Perhaps the best thing for me to do would be to pay another visit to 98 Selden’s Square, make a brief, vigorous statement of facts, and wash my hands of the whole affair.” “Do you really want to do that last?” asked Webster, with a shrewd look. Kenyon colored; but his embarrassment was only of a moment’s duration. “I’m not quite sure that I do,” he answered, quietly. “The adventure is not without its interest. And then there is the girl. I rather fancy that the desire to see her once more will begin to grow upon me shortly; and I’m also of the opinion that I shall not put up much of a fight against it.” “Spoken like a courageous and candid soul,” laughed Webster. “Stick to it; don’t be beaten. If she’s anything like your limning of her, she’s worth some sort of an effort.” In a little while Kenyon arose. “I must get some sleep,” said he. “I begin to feel a bit tired.” “Where are you stopping? Why not make a shift here, where we can keep in touch with each other.” “I’m putting up at a clean little German place down town; in fact it’s very much down town. I can see the trees of Battery Park from my window.” “You’re broke,” stated Webster, firmly. Kenyon gestured his admission of the charge. “Otherwise, why the job in the stoke-hole of the _Blenheim_ on my way up?” said he. Webster assumed the countenance of delight. “Now, by all that’s providential,” he cried, “I’ve got you, at last. When we were at college and I’d go down the line, scattering my change, you’d lend me yours in a fatherly, patronizing way that was peculiarly aggravating. And this is my first chance to get back; I’ve never caught you broke before.” He lit a third cigarette and grinned widely. “How much do you want?” asked he. “How strong a jolt can you stand?” “Since I entered the firm of Webster & Seybold, I’ve planted something like fifty thousand dollars. What part of it do you want, Ken? I’ll cut it anywhere you say.” “Good boy, Garry!” Kenyon looked at his friend with smiling eyes; but the corners of his mouth, usually so firm, twitched a little. “A couple of hundred will do.” Webster regarded him disgustedly. “Oh, behave,” said he. “This isn’t a dime-saving fund. If you want to hit the institution at all, you must do it big.” “No, no.” “He’s down and out,” thought the young man from Chicago, “and a man in that shape needs a fair-sized dose if it’s to do him any good at all.” Then he said aloud. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do in the way of a compromise. We’ll make it two thousand, and not a damned cent less.” Kenyon protested, but the other was firm. “It’s just like this,” continued the latter, “I’ve got a reputation to uphold; and I can’t afford, for business reasons, to have my friends live over German beer saloons in the neighborhood of the Battery. Webster & Seybold are above such things.”