"Lack of malice doesn't excuse in this state!" Mr. Foxman said, speaking with grim menace; "you haven't a leg to stand on. There'll be warrants out before breakfast time in the morning; and by noon you'll be in a jail cell unless you get out of this town to-night before they find out the name of the man who wrote this story. Have you got any money?" "I've--I've got some money," answered Singlebury, shaping the words with difficulty. "But, Mr. Foxman, if I'm responsible I can face the consequences. I'm willing to----" "Singlebury, I'm telling you that you haven't a chance. I sent you out on this story--that was my mistake--and you got your facts twisted--that was your mistake. Even so, I don't want to see you suffer. I tell you you haven't a show if you stay in this state ten hours longer. You'll wear stripes. I'm warning you--giving you this chance to get away while there's still time--because you're a young man, a stranger in this community, with no influence to help you outside of what _The Clarion_ could give you, and that would be mighty little. _The Clarion_ will be in bad enough itself. The man who owns this paper would sacrifice you in a minute to save himself or his paper. He can't afford to throw me to the lions, but with you it's different. If you beat it he may make a scapegoat of you, but it'll be at long distance where it won't hurt you much. If you stay you'll be a scapegoat just the same--and you'll serve time besides. Because I can't help feeling sorry for you I'm offering you a chance by giving you this warning." "I'll go then--I'll go right away, I'll do as you say, sir. What--what would you suggest?" "If I were you I'd catch a ferry for the Jersey shore before daylight--they run all night, the ferries do. And as soon as I landed on the Jersey shore I'd catch a train for the West or the South or somewhere and I'd stay on it till it stopped, no matter how far it took me--the farther from this town the better. And for the time being I'd change my name--that's my parting confidential advice to you. Good-bye. I've wasted more time already than I can spare." And having, as he figured, chosen the proper moment for ringing off, Mr. Foxman accordingly rang off. But he made sure of the last detail--this calculating, foreseeing, prudent man. It was less than six blocks from his club to Singlebury's hotel. He drove the distance as speedily as a motor could carry him and, halting the taxi he had hired in the quiet street on the opposite side of the roadway, he, hidden in its interior, sat waiting and watching through the cab window; until, a little later, he saw Singlebury issue from the doorway of the Godey Arms, carrying a valise in his hand, saw him climb into a hansom cab and saw him drive away, heading westward.