It may have been credulous of me, but I felt the boy was telling the truth, and I was deeply sorry he had not stuck to it. So, rather harshly, I said: “They didn't want you to tell them you were a brother to Adolph Meyer, either. Why did you think you could get away with anything like that?” Talbot did not answer. “Why?” I insisted. The boy laughed impudently. “How the devil was I to know he hadn't a brother?” he protested. “It was a good name, and he's a Jew, and two of the six who were in the game are Jews. You know how they stick together. I thought they might stick by me.” “But you,” I retorted impatiently, “are not a Jew!” “I am not,” said Talbot, “but I've often SAID I was. It's helped--lots of times. If I'd told you my name was Cohen, or Selinsky, or Meyer, instead of Craig Talbot, YOU'D have thought I was a Jew.” He smiled and turned his face toward me. As though furnishing a description for the police, he began to enumerate: “Hair, dark and curly; eyes, poppy; lips, full; nose, Roman or Hebraic, according to taste. Do you see?” He shrugged his shoulders. “But it didn't work,” he concluded. “I picked the wrong Jew.” His face grew serious. “Do you suppose that Smedburg person has wirelessed that banker?” I told him I was afraid he had already sent the message. “And what will Meyer do?” he asked. “Will he drop it or make a fuss? What sort is he?” Briefly I described Adolph Meyer. I explained him as the richest Hebrew in New York; given to charity, to philanthropy, to the betterment of his own race. “Then maybe,” cried Talbot hopefully, “he won't make a row, and my family won't hear of it!” He drew a quick breath of relief. As though a burden had been lifted, his shoulders straightened. And then suddenly, harshly, in open panic, he exclaimed aloud: “Look!” he whispered. “There, at the end of the wharf--the little Jew in furs!” I followed the direction of his eyes. Below us on the dock, protected by two obvious members of the strong-arm squad, the great banker, philanthropist, and Hebrew, Adolph Meyer, was waiting. We were so close that I could read his face. It was stern, set; the face of a man intent upon his duty, unrelenting. Without question, of a bad business Mr. Smedburg had made the worst. I turned to speak to Talbot and found him gone.