The man stopped as if he had been shot, and stood staring at the fur-coated figure. Then: "Oh, Mr. Lyne," he said brokenly. "Oh, guv'nor!" he choked, and tears streamed down his face, and he gripped the outstretched hand in both of his, unable to speak. "You didn't think I'd desert you, Sam, eh?" said Mr. Lyne, all aglow with consciousness of his virtue. "I thought you'd given me up, sir," said Sam Stay huskily. "You're a gentleman, you are, sir, and I ought to be ashamed of myself!" "Nonsense, nonsense, Sam! Jump into the car, my lad. Go along. People will think you're a millionaire." The man gulped, grinned sheepishly, opened the door and stepped in, and sank with a sigh of comfort into the luxurious depths of the big brown cushions. "Gawd! To think that there are men like you in the world, sir! Why, I believe in angels, I do!" "Nonsense Sam. Now you come along to my flat, and I'm going to give you a good breakfast and start you fair again." "I'm going to try and keep straight, sir, I am s'help me!" It may be said in truth that Mr. Lyne did not care very much whether Sam kept straight or not. He might indeed have been very much disappointed if Sam had kept to the straight and narrow path. He "kept" Sam as men keep chickens and prize cows, and he "collected" Sam as other men collect stamps and china. Sam was his luxury and his pose. In his club he boasted of his acquaintance with this representative of the criminal classes--for Sam was an expert burglar and knew no other trade--and Sam's adoration for him was one of his most exhilarating experiences. And that adoration was genuine. Sam would have laid down his life for the pale-faced man with the loose mouth. He would have suffered himself to be torn limb from limb if in his agony he could have brought ease or advancement to the man who, to him, was one with the gods. Originally, Thornton Lyne had found Sam whilst that artist was engaged in burgling the house of his future benefactor. It was a whim of Lyne's to give the criminal a good breakfast and to evince an interest in his future. Twice had Sam gone down for a short term, and once for a long term of imprisonment, and on each occasion Thornton Lyne had made a parade of collecting the returned wanderer, driving him home, giving him breakfast and a great deal of worldly and unnecessary advice, and launching him forth again upon the world with ten pounds--a sum just sufficient to buy Sam a new kit of burglar's tools. Never before had Sam shown such gratitude; and never before had Thornton Lyne been less disinterested in his attentions. There was a hot bath--which Sam Stay could have dispensed with, but which, out of sheer politeness, he was compelled to accept, a warm and luxurious breakfast; a new suit of clothes, with not two, but four, five-pound notes in the pocket. After breakfast, Lyne had his talk.