“I tell you I don’t want to live no longer, Miss Gale,” he whined. “If it wasn’t that I’m such a good swimmer I’d go and throw myself into the river. Yes, indeed I would. I’ve lost me job on the _Bulletin_--maybe Carroll will send me to jail, too--and I’ve been double crossed by them welshers on the _Chronicle_. I don’t want no ice-cream soda, Miss Gale; but if you’ll do me a favor, and buy me a drink of carbolic acid, I’ll be much obliged.” In spite of his evident distress, Melba could not help laughing at these desperate words. Then, becoming serious again, she inquired, with an inflection of astonishment: “Do you really mean to say that Mr. Carroll has discharged you, Miggsy?” “If he ain’t discharged me yet,” sobbed the boy, “he will when he finds out that them pictures have gone. I guess he’ll put the police on me tracks, too. I’m a fujertive from justice, that’s what I am, Miss Gale.” By adroit questioning Melba managed to get his story. It was a great relief to him to confide his troubles to somebody, and he related the whole affair to the astonished and indignant girl. When he had finished, Melba Gale’s pretty face was very grim. Her hands were clenched tightly and her eyes flashed. “It’s an outrage!” she exclaimed. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Miggsy, for doing Mr. Carroll such a bad turn; but I realize that you were strongly tempted by those who have far more cause to feel ashamed of themselves; so I am going to ask Mr. Carroll to give you another chance.” The boy shook his head despairingly. “He won’t do it. I double crossed the pape, and Carroll ain’t the sort to overlook a thing like that.” “I’ll do my best to persuade him,” said Melba, with a confident smile. “If I fail--although I am quite sure I won’t--I’ll speak to my uncle, and insist upon his finding you a job on the _Chronicle_. So don’t worry, Miggsy. I’m sure that you’ll get employment in either one place or the other.” Leaving Miggsy somewhat cheered by this assurance, she proceeded to the _Chronicle_ office, with the intention of telling her uncle and cousin in plain terms what she thought of their conduct. She intended, too, to demand that they return the stolen negatives to the _Bulletin_; but she had no hope that her demand would be complied with. However, she did not carry out these intentions; for, as she approached the door of her uncle’s private office, her ears caught a fragment of conversation which suggested to her a much better plan. “I wonder who those fellows are?” the elder Gale was saying. “Their faces are not at all recognizable in the negatives. Just for curiosity’s sake, I think it would be worth while to have a print made of each of them.” “Yes,” his son assented. “I must confess that I, too, am curious to see what they look like. Give me the films, governor, and I’ll go upstairs to the photo-engraving room, and have Michaels make some prints.”