“No, sir; I am quite well,” Dick answered. “But I am afraid that I am rather excited. Will you do me the favor to take this roll of money and count it, Mr. Clair?” And he held out his hand and the great hotel proprietor took the money. Dick felt better the moment it was out of his hands. “Ten, twenty, thirty, forty”--Mr. Clair said, unrolling the money and counting it; “two hundred and thirty, two hundred and forty, two hundred and fifty. Just two hundred and fifty dollars here, Mr. Sumner. You must have picked a winner at the races this afternoon, I think.” “No, sir!” Dick exclaimed. “That money was stuffed into my pocket against my will by Mr. Hyer, the bookmaker. It will be a great favor to me if you will seal it up and see that it is returned to him, for I cannot handle it again.” Then in reply to Mr. Clair’s inquiring looks he went on and told the whole story; what his business was with Mr. Hyer, and how he had refused the money over and over, and how Mr. Hyer had at length forced it into his pocket and disappeared in the crowd. “I don’t think I ever had anything to hurt me quite as much, Mr. Clair,” he said in concluding. “To think the man should take me for a thief! That he could imagine I would go back to the office, and home to my mother and sister, with a roll of stolen money in my pocket! Worse than stolen! Why, I might better put my hand in your money drawer than take it in such a way as--as”-- The recital of the story brought the hot blood to Dick’s head again. Finding himself unable to finish the sentence, he turned away his head. “Never mind, my boy.” Mr. Clair got up and shut the door, and laid his hand kindly on Dick’s shoulder. “Don’t take it too hard. You must make allowances for the man you were dealing with. Perhaps he has met reporters who were willing to listen to such arguments. Indeed, I have met some myself who would not have been a bit alarmed at finding two hundred and fifty dollars in their pockets. But not from the great New York papers,” he added, noticing Dick’s look of surprise. “No, I must say that for them. It is only with the small fry.” “You give me more confidence in human nature, at any rate,” Mr. Clair went on. “I have to deal with thousands and tens of thousands of people here, and my experience often leads me to doubt whether there is a single honest man in the world. But there is one, I’ll swear to it, and I am glad to know him. I know you better than you think, for a hotel keeper, like a reporter, must learn to read a man’s heart by the outward signs. Some time you may be in need of a friend, my boy; when that day comes, call on Henry Clair. Come in and eat dinner with me.”