"By the way," Reedy suddenly remembered a coincidence in regard to that undertaker's receipt, "where was it your husband lost the sale of that mine?" "At Blindon, Colorado." "By George!" Reedy released the wheel with the right hand and slapped his leg. "I thought so. Do you know who that young man with the fiddle was who ruined your fortune?" "No." Evelyn Barnett came around sharply. "Bob Rogeen--that fellow who insulted you this morning." "No? Not really?" Angry incredulity. Reedy nodded. "As I told you, I've been looking up his past. And I got the story straight." "The vile scoundrel!" Mrs. Barnett said, bitterly. "And to think Uncle would trust him with his money." "We must stop it," said Reedy. "It isn't right that your uncle should be fleeced by this rascal." "He shan't be!" declared Mrs. Barnett, gritting her teeth. "There are too many really worthy investments," added Reedy. "I'll see that this is the last money that man gets," Mrs. Barnett asseverated. "Your uncle is a little bull headed, isn't he?" suggested Reedy, cautiously. "Better be careful how you approach him." "Oh, I'll manage him, never fear," she said positively. Jenkins set Mrs. Barnett down at the entrance to the bungalow court. He preferred that Jim Crill should not see him with her. It might lead him to think Reedy was trying to influence her. As Mrs. Barnett stalked up the steps, Jim Crill was sitting on the porch in his shirt sleeves, smoking. "How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, solicitously. "Ain't feelin'," Crill grunted--"I'm comfortable." Evelyn sank into a chair, held her hands, and sighed. "Oh, dear, it is so lonely since poor Tom Barnett died." Uncle Jim puffed on--he had some faint knowledge of the poor deceased Tom. "Do you know, Uncle Jim, I made a discovery to-day. The man who kept my poor husband from making a fortune was that person." "What person?" growled the old chap looking straight ahead. "That Rogeen person you are trusting your money to." Jim Crill bit his pipe stem to hide a dry grin. He had often heard the story of the bursted mine sale. He had some suspicions, knowing Barnett, of what the mine really was. "And, Uncle Jim, of course you won't keep him. Besides, he insulted me this morning." "How?" It was another grunt. Evelyn went into the painful details of her humiliation at the bank. "When she got through Uncle Jim turned sharply in his chair. "Did you do that?" "Do what?" gasped Evelyn. "Try to interfere with his loans?" "Why, why, yes." She was aghast at the tone, ready to shed protective tears. "Didn't you tell me--wasn't I to have charge of the little things?" "Oh, hell!" Uncle Jim burst out. "Little things, yes--about the house I meant. Not my business. Dry up that sobbing now--and don't monkey any more with my business." Uncle Jim got up and stalked off downtown. CHAPTER XVII