"No, I want a talk with you, Andy." He led the way in, and sat down at the table. "I've been thinkin' a bit about you, Andy; so have some others, I reckon. Mr. Belfield--he speaks high of you--and there's others. There's no reason you shouldn't take your part with the best of 'em. Why, they feel that--they make you one of themselves. So you shall be. I can't make you a rich man, not as they reckon money, but I can help a bit." "O Jack, you're always at it," Andy groaned affectionately. The old fellow's eyes twinkled as he drew out a cheque and pushed it across the table. "Put that in your pocket, and go and talk to Mr. Foot's brother," he said. Andy's start was almost a jump; old Jack's pent-up mirth broke out explosively. "But this--this is supernatural!" cried Andy. "Looks like it, don't it? How did I find out about that? Well, it shows, Andy, that it's no use you thinkin' of tryin' not to keep a certain promise you made to me--because I find you out!" "Dear old Jack!" Andy was standing by him now, his hand on his shoulder. "I don't believe I could have kept the promise in this case. I think I should have gone back--since the thing's no go in London." "Yes, you'd have gone back--just like your obstinate ways. But I found out. I've my correspondents." "But there's been no time! Well, you are one too many for me, Jack!" Jack's pride in his cunning was even greater than his delight in his benevolence. "Perhaps I've had a wireless telegram?" he suggested, wagging his head. "Or a carrier pigeon? Who knows?" "But who was it told you?" "You've got some friends I didn't know of, up there in London. Havin' your fling, are you, Andy? That's right. And very good taste you seem to have too." He nodded approvingly. "Oh, I give it up," said Andy. "You're a wizard, Jack." "If you talk about a witch, you'll be a bit nearer the point, I reckon. Not meanin' me, I need hardly say! Well, I must let you into the secret." With enormous pride he produced Miss Doris Flower's letter. "Read that, my lad." "The Nun!" cried Andy, as his eye fell on the signature. "Who'd have thought of that?" He read the letter; he listened to Jack's enraptured story of how it had arrived. "And you're not goin' to shame her by refusin' the money now, are you?" asked cunning Jack. "If you do, you'll make her feel she's been meddlin'. Nice thing to make her feel that!" Andy saw through this little device, but he only patted Jack's shoulder again, saying quietly, "I'll take the money, Jack." All the kindness made his heart very full--whether it came from old-time friends or these new friends from a new world who made his cause theirs with so ready a sympathy. "You're launched now, lad--fair launched! And I know you'll float," said old Jack, grave at last, as he took his leave, his precious letter most carefully stowed away in his breast-pocket. It had been a great day for Jack, great for what he had done, great for the way in which his doing it had come about.