Whipple then proceeded to give a full and accurate account of his first introduction to Fred and all that had happened to him since, withholding only his own name and the name of the town he was from. And while he talked, pausing to wipe his wet brow at times, or to clear his shaky voice, the banker watched him as a cat might a mouse. He held a pencil in his long, steady fingers, and kept the point of it on a pad of paper, raising his shrewd glance and lowering it as suited his fancy. Had he been an artist, old Simon might have sketched what to his understanding was the most subtly designing face he had ever seen. Here was a man, he told himself, who resorted even to the emotional methods of a ranting revivalist to gain his nefarious aims. It was a wonderful conception, but it wofully missed its mark, for it was being applied to a man who had no emotions. It was being applied to a man, too, who was as eagerly on the lookout for new tricks as a biologist for a new species of insect. What a weakling the fellow was, for a man of that age, and what fun it would be to suddenly undeceive him--let him know the manner of man he was attempting, in such a shallow way, to bunco! “Yes, I decided not to wait longer,” Whipple concluded, with a sigh. “I didn't intend to act till the remaining three thousand was paid; but, as I say, I--” “It is only two, according to my calculations.” Walton thought he had tripped him up, and smiled knowingly. “Fred said he felt that another thousand, at least, was due as interest at the rate you usually get.” “Oh, I see; he's certainly liberal.” Walton smiled at his joke, and bent his head over his pad to hide it. “As I say,” the merchant resumed, “I intended to wait till the debt was entirely paid, but things took a sudden turn that I didn't expect. I offered to advance the money to Fred, but he wouldn't take it.” “Oh, he wouldn't take it!” Walton said, with a hurried regret that Toby was not present to enjoy the feast of stupidity being spread before him. “I see; he didn't want it. That's a little bit like him.” Simon's amusement showed itself now in his voice rather than in the visage which he managed to keep unruffled. “But you say things had sorter taken a twist around?” “Yes; he was brave enough, and bearing up mighty well till me and him took a trip, as much for pleasure as anything else, to New York, and we passed through this very town, and--” “So you passed through here?” Walton interrupted, and then to himself he added: “I knew it. I knew Fred was hanging about Atlanta and sending money to that woman. Huh, his fat agent is certainly giving the snap away!”