"Good-by, Mr. McAllister," he called over his shoulder, "and thank you kindly. I won't forget, sir." At the same instant Conville bounded through the door and rushed to the window. As he reached the sash Wilkins let go, and plunged downwards. His descent was rapid, his position being discernible from the sagging of the canvas. Barney started for the elevator in the hope of cutting off the valet's escape below, but he had miscalculated the force of gravitation. As McAllister reached the window he saw the little bulge that represented Wilkins slide gently to the bottom. There was a cheer from the bystanders as the convict stepped lightly to his feet. Then he turned for an instant, and, looking up at McAllister, waved his hand and disappeared among the crowd. McAllister's Data of Ethics I "Certainly, sir. Your clothes shall be delivered at the Metropole at nine-forty-five to morrow evenin', sir." Pondel's dapper little clerk tossed a half-dozen bolts of "trouserings" upon the polished table, and smiled graciously at the firm's best paying customer. "Here, Bulstead! take Mr. McAllister's waist measure--just a matter of precaution," he added deferentially. "These are somethin' fine, sir--very fine! When they came in, I says to Mr. Pondel: 'If only Mr. McAllister could see that woollen! It's a shame,' I says, 'not to save it for 'im!' An' Mr. Pondel agreed with me at once. 'Very good, Wessons,' says he. 'Lay aside enough of that Lancaster to make Mr. McAllister a single-breasted sack suit, and if he don't fancy it I'll have it made up into somethin' for myself,' he says. Ain't that so, Mr. Pondel?" The gentleman addressed had graciously sauntered over to congratulate Mr. McAllister upon his selections. "Ah, very good! Very good indeed! How's that, Wessons? Yes, I told him to keep that piece for you, sir. Lord Bentwood begged for it almost with the tears in his eyes, as I may say, but I assured him that it was already spoken for." He patted the cloth with a fat, ring-covered hand. An atmosphere of exclusive opulence emanated from every inch of his sleek, pudgy person--from the broad white forehead over the glinting steel-gray eyes, from the pointed Van Dyke trimmed to resemble that of a certain exalted personage, from his drab waistcoated abdomen begirdled with its heavy chain and dangling seals, down to the gray-gaitered patent leathers. McAllister distrusted, feared, relied upon him. The clubman wiped his monocle and glanced out through the plate-glass window. Marlborough Square was flooded with the soft sunshine of the autumn afternoon. Hardly a pedestrian violated the eminently aristocratic silence of St. Timothy's. "Very thoughtful of you, I'm sure," he replied, not grudging Pondel the extra two guineas which he very well knew the other invariably charged for these little favors. It were cheap at twice the money to feel so much a gentleman.