"I laid the bundle on the table and said: 'Well, that's very kind of you and I don't want you to think I don't appreciate it--but you see I don't wear scarfpins, and if I did I don't think I ought to take these. You see we have two different professions--you've got yours and I've got mine. I saw off men's legs, or I help them through a spell of sickness. They pay me for it in money. You've got another way of making your living. Your patients are whoever you happen to meet. I mightn't like your way of doing, and you mightn't like mine. That's a matter of opinion, or, perhaps, of education. You've got your risks to run, and I've got mine. If I cut too deep and kill a man they can shut me up--just as they can if you get into trouble. But I don't think we ought to mix up the proceeds. You wouldn't want me to give you this five-dollar Bill--and I held up a note a patient had just paid me--'and therefore I don't see how I ought to take one of your pins. I may not have made it plain to you--but it strikes me that way.' "'Then you ain't mad 'cause I brought 'em?'--and he looked at me searchingly from under his dark eyebrows, his lips firmly set. "'No, I'm very grateful to you for wanting to give them to me--only I don't see my way clear to take them.' "He settled back on the sofa and began twirling his hat with his hand. Then he rose from his seat, a shade of disappointment on his face, and said, slowly: "'Well, "Doc," ain't there something else I can do for you? Man like you must have _something_ you want--something you can't get without somebody's help. Think now--you mightn't see me again.' "Instantly I thought of my mother's watch. "'Yes, there is. Somebody came along one night when I was asleep and borrowed my vest hanging over that chair by the window, and my trousers, and my mother's watch was in the vest pocket. If you could help me get that back you would do me a real service--one I wouldn't forget.' "'What kind of a watch?' "I described it closely, its inscription, the portrait of my mother in the case, and showed him a copy of her photograph--like the one here. Then I gave him as close a description of the man as I could. "When I had described the scar on his face he looked at me in surprise. When I added that he had a slight limp, he said, quickly: "'Short man--with close-cropped hair--and a swipe across his chin. Lost a toe, and stumbles when he walks. I'll see what I can do. He ain't one of our men. He comes from Chicago. He never stays more'n a day or two in any town. Don't none of 'em know him round here. Leave it to me; may take some time--see you in a day or two'--and he went out.