"You couldn't do anything if you had known. Nobody could. The change of climate will fix me all right. Lucky that money is coming in just now. Lots of fellows don't have my good luck." "Good luck?" "Yes. I might be sick here without a cent, and be dependent like Franklin out at the day camp. I felt awfully sorry for him at the time, didn't you?" "Yes, tell me! but no! it hurts you to talk?" Bauer nodded. "I don't have any pain to-day. Just weakness. It's only one lung, the doc says. It might be my knee joints or my mucous or a dozen other places worse than lungs. If you're going to have tuberculosis have it when it will raise the most sympathy. If I only had a heart-rending cough to go with the hemorrhages I could get some church or tuberculosis society to send me out to Arizona free of charge." Walter was so upset by the whole thing and so disturbed by the inevitable revelation that was bound to come that he sat miserably silent, while Bauer rambled on in a disconnected manner to all outward appearances quite unterrified by his trouble, or at any rate making a brave and successful attempt at deceiving his friend. But at last he unexpectedly gave Walter an opportunity to lead up to the article in the paper. "Seems a little queer I don't hear from him. I understood Halstead and Burns were going to pay at once. Would you mind going down after the three o'clock mail? I feel a little uneasy about it. Never had so much money before. Probably never will again." "Did you have any reason to distrust your father?" asked Walter. "No, I told you his faults were of another sort." "What would you do if he should try to cheat you out of the money?" "How could he do that?" "Didn't you give him power of attorney to act for you?" "Yes." "Well, what would hinder his having the check from Halstead drawn in his name instead of yours?" "Nothing, only------" "Only what?" "Why, just sheer humanity." Bauer was sitting up on the couch, his hands doubled up and his eyes fixed on Walter. "What is it?" he said at last quietly enough. "Are you keeping something from me? I would rather have it from you than from anyone else." "Poor old man!" Walter could not hold back a groan as his eye travelled to the paper on the floor. Bauer saw his glance. "What is it? Read it for me." Walter put his hands over his face and muttered. "Oh, I can't, Felix, it's too cruel." "Nothing's too cruel if you're used to it." He started to get up from the couch, but Walter prevented him. "Lie down there. I'll read it to you if I must, simply because someone will have to do it sometime. But I would rather be hanged than do it." He hardly ventured to look at Bauer when he had finished the newspaper account. When he did look at him, he saw him sitting up on the couch, his hands clasped over his knees, a slight increase of colour on his face but no mark of any unusual anger or feeling.