“Well, wrap it up in this handkerchief--here on this table. No--don't dust it. Just as it is!” He watched Gray's face keenly. The old man's countenance remained English and impassive. “Put it in the valise.” “Yes, sir.” “In yonder box you'll find some tenpenny nails. Fetch three and wrap them up in the sheet of paper you'll find in the valise. Then lay them on top of the brick.” Gray did as he was bid. If he thought his employer was crazy he did not look it. Robison then took from his pocket a sealed envelope, threw it into the valise, and closed the valise. “You will find your livery in the dressing-room--door to your left. Put it on. Then drive so as to be before 197 West Thirty-eighth Street at exactly nine minutes after nine. Compare your watch with that clock. Wait there--Thirty-eighth Street--until a footman in dark-green livery comes out alone. If he asks you, 'James, did Ben win?' you will say to him, 'The answer is inside. Take it!' You will then return to this stable, fasten the horse to that chain, put on your street clothes, go home, and return to-morrow at eight sharp. But--” He paused. “Yes, sir.” “Pay attention, Gray! If, instead of the servant alone, the servant comes out of, 197 West Thirty-eighth Street accompanied by a gentleman who gets in, you will drive him to my office.” “Where, sir?” “This is my office--here. You will drive back here quickly and disregard everything your passenger may say or whatever orders he may give you. You understand? These are your orders that I now give you. They are not to be changed under any circumstances, no matter what happens. Have you understood?” “Yes, sir. I'll follow orders, Mr. Maynard.” “See that you do.” And Mr. Robison walked out of the stable. At nine-nine sharp Gray stood in front of 197 West Thirty-eighth Street. At nine-fifteen a footman in dark-green livery came out of the house. He was followed by Mr. Robison himself. The man opened the door of the carriage and Gray's employer got in. “Will you go to the office, sir?” asked the footman. Gray heard him. “No! Metropolitan Museum!” answered their master, distinctly. “Metropolitan Museum!” said the footman to the coachman. Gray was torn by doubt, anger, and fear. Should he drive to the Metropolitan or back to the stable? He decided to go back to the stable. If he were discharged he would not regret losing so unsatisfactory a job. If, on the other hand, driving back should prove to be the right thing he would greatly strengthen his position. He arrived at the stable, fastened the horse to the chain, and went to change his clothes. He heard Mr. Robison tap on the glass of the door and saw him beckon to him and then heard him shout, “Open the door!” But Gray went to the dressing-room and changed his clothes. As soon as he was done the second man came in, showed him two envelopes, and said: