“Miss Vera will be down in a minute,” he said. “If you want your hand read,” he added, pointing, “you sit over there.” As Winthrop approached the centre table, Mannie backed against the piano. The presence of the District Attorney at such short range aroused in him many emotions. Alternately he was torn with alarm, with admiration, with curiosity. He regarded him apprehensively, with a nervous and unhappy smile. About the smile there was something that Winthrop found familiar, and, with one almost as attractive, he answered it. “I think we’ve met before, haven’t we?” he asked pleasantly. Mannie nodded. “Yes, sir,” he answered promptly. “At Sam Hepner’s old place, on West Forty-fourth street.” “Why, of course!” exclaimed the District Attorney. “Don’t you--don’t you remember?” stammered Mannie eagerly. He was deeply concerned lest the distinguished cross-examiner should think, that from him of his lurid past he could withhold anything. “I had my coat off--and you said you’d make it hot for me.” “Did I?” asked Winthrop with an effort at recollection. “No, you didn’t!” Mannie hastened to reassure him. “I mean, you didn’t make it hot for me.” Winthrop laughed, and seated himself comfortably beside the centre table. “Well I’m glad of that,” he said. “So our relations are still pleasant, then?” he asked. “Sure!” exclaimed Mannie heartily. “I mean--yes, sir.” Winthrop mechanically reached for his cigarette case, and then, recollecting, withdrew his hand. “And how are the ponies running?” he asked. The interview was filling Mannie with excitement and delight. He chuckled with pleasure. His fear of the great man was rapidly departing. Could this, he asked himself, be the “terror to evil-doers,” the man whose cruel questions drove witnesses to tears, whose “third degree” sent veterans of the underworld staggering from his confessional box, limp and gasping? “Oh, pretty well,” said the boy, “seems as if I couldn’t keep away from them. I got a good thing for today--Pompadour--in the fifth. I put all the money on her I could get together,” he announced importantly, and then added frankly, with a laugh, “two dollars!” The laugh was contagious, and the District Attorney laughed with him. “Pompadour,” Winthrop objected, “she’s one of those winter track favorites.” “I know, but today,” declared Mannie, “she win, sure!” Carried away by his enthusiasm, and by the sympathy of his audience, he rushed, unheeding, to his fate. “If you’d like to put a little on,” he said, “I can tell you where you can do it.” The District Attorney stared and laughed. “You mustn’t tell me where you can do it,” he said. Mannie gave a terrified gasp and, for an instant, clapped his hands over his lips. “That’s right,” he cried. “Gee, that’s right! I’m such a crank on all kinds of sport that I clean forgot!”