There were some moments of silence after this statement. None of them had any superstition concerning this particular number of hundreds, and the amount was pitifully small compared to the figures they had used from time to time so recklessly in estimating their returns. For some unexplained reason, however, the sudden reality of the sum, and the dead certainty that this was not a mirage of champagne or a fancy of smoke, but a hard, cold fact that had to be met with money, caused the two listeners to have a cold, sinking sensation in stomachs that were none too full. Van Dorn was first to recover. He said with weak cheerfulness: "Oh, well, it isn't a third what Frisby took, and he didn't have a dollar." "Sure enough!" rejoiced Livingstone. "Lucky we don't have to pay it now though." There was another period of silence; then he added, "What time is it getting to be, Perny?" As there was no immediate answer to this, Livingstone wheeled half-way around from his easel for the reply, and saw Perner studying somewhat solemnly the dial of one of the fat "Whole Family" watches. Perner usually carried a rather elegant gold time-piece, a memory of his business career, and the only one in the party. Livingstone was about to comment on its absence, but was restrained by a sudden delicacy. Perner's watch might be out for repairs, or he might be wearing this ridiculous affair out of loyalty to the paper; but these were troublous times, and there was the possibility of still another solution of the matter. "Five o'clock," decided Perner, at last, "lacking four minutes. I suppose I'm through with the leeches for to-day." The words were barely uttered when the door opened and a boy entered with bills in one hand and a letter in the other. "I spoke a little too soon, it seems," Perner concluded, taking the envelop which the boy had extended uncertainly toward each of them in turn. The envelop contained a brief communication--also a bill. Perner held the latter in his hand while he ran his eye hastily over the former. Then he glanced at the amount of the bill, and Van Dorn, who was watching him, saw that he was rather white. He turned to the boy quite carelessly, however. "You may leave these. We will attend to them to-morrow." Then, as the collector vanished, he looked up at Van Dorn with, "It's the bill for the advertising. We are to pay before it goes in." Van Dorn half rose to his feet. Livingstone gasped. "Listen," said Perner, and he read the letter to them: "OFFICE OF JACKSON & MARSH, ETC. "NEW YORK, September 2, 1897. "_Publishers of the 'Whole Family,' New York._