The two men walked slowly down the steps of the club and across the busy thoroughfare. As they stepped up or the opposite curb they were startled by a sharp cry, and turning suddenly they saw a little man stumble and fall forward in the street directly in front of an approaching mail wagon. The great horses were almost upon him, bearing down in a long sweeping trot. The driver at the moment was not looking, but it was too late for him to prevent the impending accident even if he had been. The giant Alshire ran out into the street, caught the horses and threw his ponderous weight against the iron bits. The heavy Percherons reared and fell back on their haunches, the tongue of the wagon shot forward, grazing the giant's shoulder, and the wheels stopped for a moment almost against the body of the prostrate man. In that moment Van Meter dragged the hapless pedestrian from beneath the belly of the horses. The giant stepped quickly aside, and the horses, plunging forward heavily on the cobble stones, passed on down the street, while the half-dazed driver did not even look back to ascertain what had really occurred. The little man wiped the dust from his hat with the sleeve of his coat and looked up at his deliverers. “Well,” he said, “Randolph Mason came near to losing his clerk. I guess I stumbled on that infernal rail.” A great light came into the face of Jerry Van Meter. He came up close to the little man and caught him by the shoulder. “Randolph Mason!” he said, “Is Randolph Mason in New York?” “Yes,” responded the little man. “I am his clerk. Parks is my name. Mr. Mason is here, but----” Then he stopped short. The now excited Van Meter shook the little man almost roughly by the shoulder. “Good,” he cried, “good, we must see him at once.” The clerk Parks looked down at his soiled clothes and the dust on his bruised hands. “Gentlemen,” he said slowly, “it is against the strict order of the physicians, but, under the circumstances, I don't quite see how I am going to refuse.” IV RANDOLPH MASON leaned forward and struck his hand heavily on the arm of his chair. “Forty thousand,” he said sharply, “you owe that sum, sir?” His face looked old, sunken, and furrowed with heavy dark lines, but his eyes shone under his shaggy brows. “Yes,” responded the grazier, “fully that much.” “To secure that amount in cash,” continued Mason, “it will be necessary to deal with some bank or savings institution of which the president or some powerful director is an attorney-at-law. This condition will be found to obtain in almost any one of the small towns of the country, and if my directions are followed strictly, the plan can be carried out and the money secured in a very few hours. The plan is simple and easy. In the first place----” “But,” said the giant Alshire, “I don't want other men's money. I don't want to commit a crime.” The veins in the forehead of Randolph Mason grew black with anger.