“Another game?” asked Bar of himself, but he pushed his way vigorously through the throng, nevertheless, as determined as anybody to learn the meaning of it all. It was by no means the easiest thing in the world, for there was really a good deal of excitement. “Awful fit!” exclaimed one. “Fell right flat and began to kick without a word.” “Lucky for him that Dr. Manning happened on hand so quickly.” “Best doctor in the city.” A shower of remarks reached Bar’s ears from all sides, but he could not divest himself of a feeling which made him extremely watchful, and he almost instinctively kept one hand upon his very worthless prize, as if it contained a fortune. He was “two or three deep” back in the crowd from the central point where the sufferer was supposed to be lying, and around him were men of every sort, seeming pretty closely wedged in. Sharp as was the watch which Bar was keeping, he very nearly missed seeing the deft and dexterous passage from hand to hand of a wallet which seemed the very counterpart and image of the one in his own pocket, but it disappeared in the capacious outer garment of a tall, thin, foreign-looking gentleman at his side. The thought flashed through Bar’s brain with a rapidity compared to which lightning is a stage-coach, and his fingers moved with only less quickness and with marvelous skill. “The weight must be about the same,” thought Bar, “and he’ll never know the difference. It’s splendid fun to have got in on old Prosper himself. The Major must be inside there somewhere. No, there go both of them, making off as fast as they can.” Just then a clear and somewhat scornful voice arose above the rest, exclaiming: “Get up, you wretched fraud. There’s nothing at all the matter with you. Don’t give him a cent, gentlemen, if that’s what he’s after. He’s no more in a fit than you and I are.” “Hurrah for the doctor!” shouted a somewhat youthful bystander, but the physician, a tall, fine-looking, benevolent-faced gentleman, forced his way to the edge of the sidewalk, sprang into a carriage which seemed to be waiting for him, and drove away, with the disgusted air of a professional man whose sympathies had been imposed upon. He had not been deceived, however, except for the first few moments, by even the admirable acting of the halfway genteel scamp, who now picked himself up so sheepishly and sneaked around the corner amid the jeers of the wayfarers, just in time to evade the fingers of the police. “It was a regular put-up job,” exclaimed Bar, as he walked away. “Anyhow, it won’t be difficult for me to find out who this thing belongs to. Maybe it’s the doctor himself, only I can’t see how he should have such a thing about him and push right into a crowd with it.”