"No-o," his wife responded, somewhat doubtfully. "He looked prosperous, all right, by the flash I got at him, an' he's walkin' real brisk and businesslike. Maybe he's back on the job." "'Tain't likely, not after the way he left his boarding place, if that Lindsay woman didn't lie." Pennold laid aside his pipe and frowned thoughtfully, as steps echoed from the rickety porch and a knock sounded upon the door. "He's a lightweight, every way you take him--he'd never stick anywhere." "Maybe he's come to try an' get you into somethin'," Mame suggested. "Don't you go takin' up with a bad penny at your time o' life, Wally. He might know somethin' an' try blackmail, if he's real up against it." "Well, go ahead an' open the door!" ordered Walter impatiently. "We're straight with the bank. If he's workin' there again we ain't got nothin' to worry about, an' if he ain't, we got nothin' against him. Let him in." With obvious reluctance, Mame shuffled through the hall and obeyed. "Hello, Mrs. Pennold!" Guy greeted her heartily, but without offering his hand. He brushed past her half-defensive figure with scant ceremony, and entered the kitchen. "Hello, Pennold. Thought I might find you home this cold morning. How goes it?" "Same as usual." Pennold rose slowly and looked at his visitor with swiftly narrowed eyes. There was a new note in the young man's voice which the other vaguely recognized; it was as if a lantern had suddenly flashed into his face from the darkness, or an authoritative hand been laid upon his shoulder. He motioned mechanically toward a chair on the other side of the stove, and added slowly: "S'prised to see you, Al. Didn't expect you'd be around here again after your get-away. Workin' once more?" "Oh, I'm right on the job!" responded Guy briskly. He drew the chair close to the square deal table, so close that he could have reached out, had he pleased, and touched his host's sleeve. Pennold seated himself again in his old position, significantly half-turned, so that when he glanced slyly at his visitor it was over his shoulder, in the furtive fashion of one on guard. "Ain't back with the Brooklyn and Queens, are you?" he asked. "No. It got too slow for me there. I found something bigger to do." Mame Pennold, who had been hovering in the background, came forward now and faced him across the table, her shrewd eyes fastened upon him. "Must have easy hours, when you can get off in the morning like this?" she observed. "Didn't forget your old friends, did you?" "No, of course not. I hadn't anything more important to do this morning, so I thought I'd drop in and see you both." His hand traveled to his breast pocket, and at the gesture, Mame's gaunt body stiffened suddenly. "Didn't come to inquire about our health, did you?" she shot at him, acrimoniously. "I came to see you about another matter--"