“My boss failed, and that threw me out of a job. I couldn’t get another in Chicago, so I worked my way here on a freight train.” “What sort of work can you do?” “Any old kind, sir, that’ll earn me a dollar,” Chick asserted, somewhat suggestively. “I wouldn’t be particular. You can bet on that.” “You’d do most anything, eh?” “That’s what I would, sir. When a man’s up against it good and hard, he don’t stick over trifles. I’d do anything the boss told me.” “Suppose it was something off color?” “That would be up to him, sir. I’d do it, all right, and shut my eyes to what it was about.” “And your mouth, too, perhaps?” “I would, sir, and keep it shut,” said Chick, with a sinister nod. “You can bank your pile on that, sir.” Bart Bailey laughed and glanced again at the listening merchant. “Murdock might use the fellow,” he remarked significantly. “Vell, yes, he might,” Meyers allowed tentatively, evidently taking a cue the other had given him. Bart turned to Chick again, saying: “We’ve got no use for you here, my man, but I think I could find a job for you in New York.” “That would suit me all right, sir,” Chick declared, with manifest eagerness. “I’d go to New York, sir, or to perdition, if need be. Give me a letter to the party, sir, and I’ll find a way to get there.” “I’d do better than that, my man, if you mean what you say,” replied Bailey, glancing at his watch. “You’ll find I mean it, sir,” Chick insisted. “I’m going to New York in just half an hour,” Bart added. “I’ll not promise you the job, mind you, but I think I can fix you with a friend who wants a man for general work. I’ll take the chance, at all events, and will pay your fare, which can be returned to me out of your first week’s pay. How does that suit you?” “I couldn’t be hit more to my liking, sir,” said Chick, with manifest gratitude. “I’m more obliged than I could tell if I----” “Never mind thanking me,” Bart interrupted. “There’ll be time enough for that after you get what’s coming to you. What’s your name?” “James Donovan, sir.” “Where are you stopping? Have you got any luggage?” “Only what’s on my back.” “Well, that’s easily carried,” Bart laughed, with a covert gleam in his shifty eyes. “Sit down there, Donovan, for about ten minutes. We then shall have time to hit a fast express.” Chick obeyed him with alacrity, taking a chair to which the rascal pointed. There was nothing remarkable in the celerity with which these arrangements were completed. Chick knew that the two crooks did not dream of his having learned of the code telegram and its significance, and that they not only would suspect his identity, but also would see in his application for work only a scheme to watch them and the Philadelphia store.