"No, it is my luck," said young Mr. Harding, and took a fresh cigar. "Or, rather, your luck," he corrected himself, smilingly. "Have you forgotten that I am now your property?" "God forbid!" said Indiman, hastily. "I give you back yourself--consideration of one dollar. You're a witness, Thorp. And now shall we go in to dinner?" A position in a wholesale business house was secured for young Mr. Harding, and for a month or two he seemed to be doing very well. Then one day he resigned; a letter to Indiman gave the explanation. "He's going to marry a wealthy widow," read out Indiman. "They sail on the Lucania next Saturday." "Then luck has turned for him," I said, heartily. "I'm glad of it." "Hym!" said Indiman. "Perhaps so." From the street came the sound of a hand-organ. It was playing Verdi's "Celeste Aida," and so lovely is the aria that I could have listened to it with pleasure, even when thus ground out mechanically. But, unfortunately, an atrocious mistake had been made in the preparation of the music cylinder. In the original the final note of the first two bars is F natural, while in the third bar the tonality is raised and the F becomes F sharp. The transcriber had failed to make this change, and so had lost the uplifting effect of the sharped F. All the life and color of the phrase had been destroyed, and the result was intolerable. I fished out a quarter and rang for Bolder. "Send him away," I said, somewhat impatiently. The servant returned looking puzzled. "The organ-grinder said I was to give this to the gentleman," he said, and handed me a small object. It was a brass baggage-check issued by the New York Central Railway, from Cleveland to New York, and bore the number 18329. I passed it to Indiman, ran to the window, and looked out. But the organ-grinder was gone. IX The Brass Baggage-Check It is not every day in the week that a hand-organ plays "Celeste Aida" under one's window with an F natural in the third bar where the music rightfully calls for F sharp. Nor is it usual to send out a quarter of a dollar to the man as an inducement for him to retire, and then to receive in return a New York Central baggage-check numbered 18329, and reading from Cleveland to New York. Esper Indiman and I exchanged smiles. "This looks like the real thing," said my friend. "My dear Thorp, there must be some rare element in your chemical make-up that serves to precipitate these delightful mysteries. Adventures fairly flock about us. We shall have to screen the doors and windows or be overwhelmed. Seriously, I am infinitely obliged to you, for I had started on my eleventh game of solitaire, and was beginning to feel a trifle bored. But now--now there is something doing, as Mr. Devery would remark. Let us start the ball rolling by giving Bolder the third degree."