"It's quite true--I'm not in the habit of catching house thieves," he said, drawling a little, "and I doubt if many of them are quite such accomplished liars as you appear to be; but my stroke will improve, I've no doubt, as we go on. Would you mind getting up and 'coming along with me' as they call it, I believe?" The man made no answer, but raised his hands high above his head. "If you'll look in that left vest pocket, there's a little leather case there," he said, "and--and you'd better take the pin, too, I guess. I'd be obliged if you'd say you found it somewhere; I never should've put it on." Somewhat clumsily Lindsay extricated the leather case, cursing his awkwardness and the patience of the man. A worn little photograph of a boy of eight or nine was in his hand; across the bottom was scrawled in a childish hand, "Daddy, from your son James." He drew a long breath. "That's Jimmy, all right," he said dully. "If you'll just tear it up," said the man. "It's all I've got, and nobody'd know but some friend that--that would be lookin' for the likeness." Lindsay threw the picture on the floor. "I won't believe it--its too sickening!" he cried, "Jim Wardwell's a gentleman! I--I--why I admired him more than--good God, he's a _friend_ of mine!" The man smiled faintly. "Oh, Jimmy has fine friends," he said almost complacently, "he's always gone with the best. He's very particular." Lindsay's forehead was a network of pain and doubt. "But Jimmy has plenty of money," he insisted, "he always had the--his things--oh, it's idiotic! You're crazy, that's all." "Oh, yes, he always had plenty," the man said simply. In the pause that followed they heard the soft chink of silver through the wall; Caroline was evidently busy. Lindsay twisted his face into an ugly smile. "And I thought he was the squarest of the lot," he said slowly, "I've said so often. We all did. Pretty easy, weren't we?" "He is!" The man half rose, but fell back with a grunt of pain. "Oh, _damn_ this heart!" he complained fretfully. "I don't know what's the matter with me. That fortune woman, she knew. Last week it was I went. 'You're making a plan to end up your business,' she says to me, 'and so you will, mister, but not the way you think. There's some trouble coming to you and a child's mixed up in it. Look out for strange dogs,' she says, they all tell me that--'and run no risks this month. I don't just like the looks of your hand,' she says. And when I saw that child, it was all up with me, I thought. I didn't think the machine would ever get started again. And then that infernal dog...." "We were speaking of--of--did you say that Jim--" Lindsay's voice sounded strange, even to himself. The man blinked a moment. "What?" he said vaguely, "what about Jim? Oh--he don't know anything about it, of course. I sh'd think you'd know enough for that. That's what I'm telling you, if you'd keep still a minute."