"Not another word for half an hour!" commanded John, placing his open watch upon the table between them. "We'll pass this night in silence periods of thirty minutes duration each, then have five minutes recess after each, unless one or the other has solved the great question. It is now ten-thirty. Aren't you sorry you came in?--To work!" He tilted his chair, elevated his heels to the other end of the table, let the long-stemmed pipe sink between his two hands, and lapsed into a meditative silence. Dillard kept his feet on the floor, probably because of his extra amount of flesh, and likewise endeavoured to think. Just as the first half hour was up the figment of a tenable plan floated into Glenning's brain. "How goes it?" he asked, squinting across at the placid face of his friend. "Slow. You're right; it's worse than arithmetic." "I've started," announced John, quietly elated. "Give me another thirty minutes, and I believe I can let you go home." "Proceed," was the laconic reply, and again silence. Glenning, searching desperately about in his mind, had really hit upon an entirely feasible way to carry out his idea. The project quickly developed as he brought his brain into active service, and long before the time he had asked for had expired, it was all clear, and ready to his hand. "There's no use wasting further time in reflection, my boy," said John, suddenly lowering his feet and swinging around. "Listen, and I'll a tale unfold." "I'm listening. You're a wonder if you've got it straight." "There's not a hitch in the whole thing. Here's my plan. I can't write my name on the back of this piece of paper, walk in your bank and request the teller to place it to the credit of Major Dudley. That would cause comment, and Major Dudley would naturally and rightly refuse to touch a cent of it. And I would be in bad odour with them and the community. My plan is to make Major Dudley deposit this money himself." He stopped for a moment to enjoy the look of undisguised curiosity and blank amazement on Dillard's face.