McAllister looked at his watch in despair. It was only a quarter past ten. He had not been to church for fifteen years, but evidently he was in for it now. Following his former valet's example, he took off his shoes and stretched himself upon the cot. On and on in never-varying tones dragged the service. The preacher held the key to the situation. His congregation could not escape; he had a full house, and he was bent on making the most of it. The hands of McAllister's watch crept slowly round to five minutes before eleven. When at last the preacher stopped, carefully folded his manuscript, and pronounced the benediction, a prolonged sigh of relief eddied through the Tombs. Men were waking on all sides; cots creaked; there was a general and contagious yawn. Again the gong rang, and with it the smell of food floated up along the tiers. McAllister realized that he was hungry--not mildly, as he was at the club, but ravenous, as he had never been before. Presently the longed-for food came, borne by a "trusty" in new white uniform. Wilkins, who had been making a meagre toilet at the faucet, took in the dinner through the door--two tin plates piled high with turkey and chicken, flanked by heaps of potato and carrots, and one whole apple pie! "Ha!" thought McAllister, "I was not so far wrong about this part of it!" The chicken was perhaps not of the variety known as "spring"; but neither master nor man noticed it as they feasted, sitting side by side upon the cot. "Carrots!" philosophized McAllister, looking regretfully at his empty tin plate. "Now, I thought only horses ate carrots; and really, they're not bad at all. I should like some more. Er--Wilkins! Can we get some more carrots?" Wilkins shook his head mournfully. "Message for 34! Message for 34!" A letter was thrust through the bars. McAllister tore it open with feverish haste, and recognized the crabbed hand of old Mr. Potter. 2 East Seventy-First Street. F. Welch, Esq. Sir: The remarkable letter just delivered to me, signed by a name which you request me not to use in my reply, has received careful consideration. I telephoned to Mr. Mc----'s rooms, and was informed by his valet that that gentleman had gone to the country to visit friends over Christmas. I have therefore directed the messenger to collect from yourself his fee for delivering this answer. Yours, etc., EBENEZER POTTER. "That fool Frazier!" groaned McAllister. "How the devil could he have thought I had gone away?" Then he remembered that he had directed the valet to pack his bags and send them to the station, in anticipation of the Winthrops' invitation. He was at his wits' end. "How do you get bail, Wilkins?" "You 'ave to find someone as owns real estate in the city, sir, to go on your bond. 'Ow much is it?" "Five thousand dollars," replied McAllister.