“Well,” he said, bitterly, “I'm a fine specimen of a man, ain't I. Ain't you proud of me?” “I am mighty sorry for you,” I answered. “And I mean to help you.” “You can't.” “How do you know?” “Because I do know, Ros,” he turned and looked me straight in the eye. “I am going to give you some good advice. Take it, for your own sake. Clear out of here and leave me. Don't have anything more to do with me. Clear out.” I did not move. “Are you going to do as I tell you?” he demanded. “Mind, I'm telling you this for your own good. Will you clear out and leave me?” I smiled. “Of course not,” I answered. “Don't be a fool. You can't afford to be my friend. Clear out and leave me, do you hear?” “I hear. Now, George, what is it?” His fingers tapped the table. I could see he was making up his mind. “You want to know?” he said. “You won't be satisfied until you do?” “I have made that fairly plain, I hope. At least I've tried to.” His fist clenched and he struck the table. “Then, by the Almighty, I'll tell you!” he cried, fiercely. “It'll be all over the county in a week. You might as well know it now. I'm a crook. I'm a thief. I've stolen money from this bank and I can't pay it back because I haven't got it and can't get it. I'm a crook, I tell you, and in a week or so it'll be the county jail for mine. Unless--unless,” with a significant glance at the drawer, “something else happens to me in the meantime. There; now you know. Are you satisfied? Are you happy because you've found out?” I did not answer. To tell the truth I was not entirely overcome by surprise at the disclosure. I had begun to suspect something of the sort. Yet, now that my suspicions were confirmed, I was too greatly shocked and horrified to speak at once. “Well?” he sneered. “Now will you clear out and let me settle this my own way?” I pulled my chair forward and sat down. “Tell me all about it, George,” I said, as calmly as I could. “How much is it?” He stared at me aghast. “You won't go?” he cried. “You--you are going to stick by me even--even--” “There! there! pull yourself together, old fellow. We won't give up the ship yet. How much is it? It can't be a great sum.” “It ain't. But, Ros--you--you can't--you mustn't be mixed up in this. I shan't let you. Don't you see?” I argued and pleaded and reasoned with him for what seemed a long time before he would consent to tell me the whole story. And when it was told there was nothing new or novel in it. The old tale of an honest man who had not meant to go wrong, but, tempted by one of those wiles of the devil, an “inside tip” on the stock market, had bought heavily on margins, expecting to clear a handsome profit in a short time. The stock was Louisville and Transcontinental and the struggle for its control by certain big interests had made copy for financial writers for nearly a year. George had bought at a time when one syndicate had, so it believed, secured the control.