For, truth to tell, he was much too taken up with a consideration of his own affairs to have any time for other people's troubles, much less mourn over Roy Pallister, though, in his way, he was undoubtedly fond of the little chap. However, after Leslie had calmed down sufficiently to talk connectedly once more, he not only listened, but approved of the girl's suggestion that she offer a reward, a large reward for the discovery of the perpetrator of the dastardly crime. "Yes, I must know," he said to himself when once more alone in his cell. "Flomerfelt must find out who fired that shot. Flomerfelt will find out.... What would I do without him?" But the question would surely not have been asked had it been possible for him to have overheard the conversation that took place, later, between Mrs. Peter Wilkinson and his confidential man. As Flomerfelt entered the house, Mrs. Peter V. Wilkinson was waiting for him. Flomerfelt was visibly excited. He removed his gloves and fell to pacing lightly up and down the room. "What's the matter with you?" demanded Mrs. Peter V. Flomerfelt stopped before her, his white lips drawn tightly against his teeth. "My, what a chance for an enemy in that big mob; and what a fumble!" "Were you there?" she asked. Flomerfelt shrugged his shoulders. "Trouble is something that I sidestep. I expected trouble and stayed away." "You expected this?" The woman looked at him incredulously. "Wilkinson feared it, too, I think." "Why?" "The depositors--the mob----" "Was it one of the depositors who--who killed Pallister?" "How should I know?" And again he shrugged his shoulders, eyed his coat-sleeves and his lean wrists, for his cuffs, obeying some unwritten law, had crept up and out of sight. He jerked his arms again, and his linen darted once more into view. Again he scrutinised it carefully, first glancing upon his right hand and then upon his left. Mrs. Peter V. eyed him closely. "Doesn't anybody know who fired the shot?" He shook his head. "Some believe the depositors did it; others a personal enemy. Wilkinson feared treachery, I think. A reward is being offered--a rather large reward, I think--ten thousand dollars." The question, "By whom?" hung on her lips, but was interrupted by Flomerfelt, who went on with: "It was Leslie's idea, I understand. She is beside herself--wants to avenge Pallister." "Sorry about him myself," said Mrs. Peter V., seemingly sincere. It was only when she added, "He certainly knew how to hook up waists," that the shallowness of the woman's mind was evident. And even Flomerfelt recoiled from her when, a moment later, she motioned to him to seat himself by her side. "Who shot at Wilkinson?" she asked, persistently, drawing him closer to her. Flomerfelt dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. "As we remarked, it makes but little difference now. The shot went wild." * * * * *