"Again, how sorry I feel, not only for your cough, but your poverty. Such a rare chance made unavailable. Did you have but the sum named, how I could invest it for you. Treble profits. But confidence--I fear that, even had you the precious cash, you would not have the more precious confidence I speak of." "Ugh, ugh, ugh!" flightily raising himself. "What's that? How, how? Then you don't want the money for yourself?" "My dear, _dear_ sir, how could you impute to me such preposterous self-seeking? To solicit out of hand, for my private behoof, an hundred dollars from a perfect stranger? I am not mad, my dear sir." "How, how?" still more bewildered, "do you, then, go about the world, gratis, seeking to invest people's money for them?" "My humble profession, sir. I live not for myself; but the world will not have confidence in me, and yet confidence in me were great gain." "But, but," in a kind of vertigo, "what do--do you do--do with people's money? Ugh, ugh! How is the gain made?" "To tell that would ruin me. That known, every one would be going into the business, and it would be overdone. A secret, a mystery--all I have to do with you is to receive your confidence, and all you have to do with me is, in due time, to receive it back, thrice paid in trebling profits." "What, what?" imbecility in the ascendant once more; "but the vouchers, the vouchers," suddenly hunkish again. "Honesty's best voucher is honesty's face." "Can't see yours, though," peering through the obscurity. From this last alternating flicker of rationality, the miser fell back, sputtering, into his previous gibberish, but it took now an arithmetical turn. Eyes closed, he lay muttering to himself-- "One hundred, one hundred--two hundred, two hundred--three hundred, three hundred." He opened his eyes, feebly stared, and still more feebly said-- "It's a little dim here, ain't it? Ugh, ugh! But, as well as my poor old eyes can see, you look honest." "I am glad to hear that." "If--if, now, I should put"--trying to raise himself, but vainly, excitement having all but exhausted him--"if, if now, I should put, put----" "No ifs. Downright confidence, or none. So help me heaven, I will have no half-confidences." He said it with an indifferent and superior air, and seemed moving to go. "Don't, don't leave me, friend; bear with me; age can't help some distrust; it can't, friend, it can't. Ugh, ugh, ugh! Oh, I am so old and miserable. I ought to have a guardian. Tell me, if----" "If? No more!" "Stay! how soon--ugh, ugh!--would my money be trebled? How soon, friend?" "You won't confide. Good-bye!" "Stay, stay," falling back now like an infant, "I confide, I confide; help, friend, my distrust!" From an old buckskin pouch, tremulously dragged forth, ten hoarded eagles, tarnished into the appearance of ten old horn-buttons, were taken, and half-eagerly, half-reluctantly, offered.