“Try again. Listen!” Mr. Robison moved his lips soundlessly and asked, “What did I say, Gray?” The old man drew in a deep breath. It was not so much the money, for the Morris family gave him a pension; but he wished to feel that he was not yet useless, that he was still worth his keep. However, he shook his head and said, determinedly: “I heard nothing.” “Open your eyes! You get the job, Gray,” said Mr. Robison. “Come here!” As Gray approached his new employer Sniffens left the room. “You are not to tell any one for whom you are working, or where, or why, or for how long, or for what wages. There will be no night work. Are you very careful?” “Yes, sir.” “You'll have to take some children to school every day--poor children to a public school in the morning. You are not to ask their names. Do what you are told, no matter how queer it seems to you, so long as you are not asked to break the law of the land or the rules of the road.” “Very good, sir.” “I shall send people to ask you questions, and I warn you that I'm going to put you to various tests. I want a man who is honest enough to trust with valuables, wise enough to mind his own business, and faithful enough to do what his employer tells him.” “Yes, sir.” “Until you prove you are the man I want you will be paid by the day--five dollars. You will feed yourself and sleep home. I supply the livery and a second man. If after one month's trial you are found satisfactory you will get your wages by the month. It's big wages, but I want an honest man!” He looked at Gray sternly. “Yes, sir. I'm careful and honest, sir. I think you will find that to be true, sir.” “I trust so. The stable is on Thirty-first Street, near Avenue B. Here is the number.” He gave a card to Gray. “Be there at eight sharp. You will drive a coupé; quiet horse; New York City.” “Yes, sir. I'll be there, sir.” “Here's five dollars for you. You don't have to pay any fee to Sniffens. I've paid him.” “Thank you, sir. Good day, sir.” At seven-thirty the next morning Gray was at the stable. It was not a very good-looking place. He rang the bell, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. No one answered. He rang a second and a third time, and still there was no answer. He listened, his ear close to the door. He heard the muffled sound of a horse pounding in a well-littered stall. At eight o'clock--Gray heard a clock within chime the hour--the door opened. Gray entered. A man was hitching up a dark bay horse to a coupé. Mr. Robison was sitting in a sumptuous green-plush armchair in the carriage-room. Behind him, on a mahogany table, was a small valise, opened. “Good morning, Gray,” said Robison. “Good morning, Mr. Maynard,” said Gray, respectfully. Robison took a clean white-linen handkerchief from his pocket and said: “See that brick over there?” He pointed to a common red brick on a little shelf near the street door. “Yes, sir.”