“What an imagination you have!” Denby said in astonishment. “Why, you couldn’t be bribed, Mr. Taylor!” “You bet your life I couldn’t,” the deputy-surveyor returned. Denby sighed. “What a pity I didn’t meet a business man instead of _you_.” Taylor’s sharp eyes looked at the speaker steadily. “You couldn’t square it even with a business man for twenty thousand dollars.” Denby met his shrewd gaze without lowering his eyes. “If I’d met the right kind of business man,” he declared, “I shouldn’t have offered twenty thousand dollars,” he said meaningly; “I’d have offered him all I’ve got--and that’s thirty thousand dollars.” A slow smile chased Taylor’s intent expression away. “You would?” he said. “I would,” Denby answered steadily. “A business man,” Taylor returned, “wouldn’t believe you had that much unless he saw it with his own eyes.” “I should prove it,” Denby answered. And with his first and second finger he probed behind his collar and produced three new ten-thousand-dollar bills. “Beauties, aren’t they?” he asked of the staring Taylor. The official seemed hypnotized by them. “I didn’t know they made ’em that big,” he said reverently. When Denby next spoke, his tone was brisker. “Look here, Taylor, I haven’t been in Paris for two years.” There was understanding in Taylor’s face now. “You haven’t?” he returned. “And in case of a come-back, I’ve witnesses to prove an alibi.” “You have?” Taylor responded, his smile broadening. “How much does the Government pay you?” Denby questioned. Taylor’s eyes were still on the bills. “Three thousand a year,” he answered. Denby inspected the crisp bills interestedly. “Ten years’ salary!” he commented. “You couldn’t save all this honestly in your lifetime.” Denby raised his eyes and the two men looked at one another and a bargain was as certainly made as though documents had been drawn up attesting it. Taylor’s manner altered instantly. He removed his hat and became a genial, not to say jocular, soul. “Too bad,” he said sympathetically, “a mistake like that happening.” “It is a bit inconvenient,” Denby allowed. “I’m sorry to have bothered you,” the deputy-surveyor assured him, “but you’re all right, Mr. Denby. I figured from the first that you might be a business man, and that’s why you slipped through so easily.” “You’re a pretty smart man, Mr. Taylor,” Denby admitted, “and I think these belong to you.” He held out the money. “Yes, I think they do,” Taylor said eagerly, reaching out for the bills. “Wait a minute!” Denby cried, holding the money back. “How do I know you won’t take it and then double-cross me?” “I’ll give you my word for it,” Taylor assured him fervently. “That security isn’t good enough,” Denby remarked slowly. “We haven’t done business together before, and those two men of yours--are they in on it?” “Not on your life,” Taylor laughed. “I haven’t split with anybody for five years. This is a one man job, Mr. Denby.”