perhaps one of the hardest things an undetected criminal has to endure, that he lives in a world of suspicion of his own making, where every imagination is real and as dreadful as the fact. In his own mind young Barter credited himself with courage when he made overtures for Philip’s companionship. In reality he made the overtures because he was a coward, and a braver scoundrel would have disdained them. Philip felt himself impelled to watch this young man, and was not altogether displeased that he found the opportunity thrust upon him. Almost facing the gateway of the old Inn there is an old-fashioned restaurant, deserted from its hour of opening until noon, and from then crowded inconveniently till two o’clock, deserted again till five, and once more inconveniently crowded till seven. Philip, having the power to choose his own time for meals, and frequenting this old house, sometimes met Barter in the act of coming away from it with the dregs of the stream of the late lunchers or diners. He fell into the habit of going a little earlier, and Barter would signal him to the table at which he sat, if by rare chance there happened to be a vacant seat at it. The young rascal’s tendency lay towards monologue, and since it was his cue to be open-hearted, and very unsuspicious of being suspected, he talked with much freedom of himself, his pursuits, and his affairs. The question which Barter’s nerves were always finding in Philip’s eyes was, as a matter of fact, not often absent from his mind. ‘Now, how did you steal those notes?’ was the one active query of his intelligence as he listened to Barter’s candid prattle. It was in the course of these confidences that Philip learned of the existence of that Pigeon Trap of which Mr. Barter was so proud to be an inhabitant. It was at Barter’s solicitation that he visited the place, and it was Barter who proposed him as a member. Being a member it was not long before he discovered the fact of Steinberg’s influence over the young solicitor. He noticed a terrified deference in Barter’s manner towards the other, a frightened alacrity of obedience to his suggestions. He noticed also that Steinberg and Barter played a good deal by themselves, and that Barter always lost. The men of Hawks’ Boost talked pretty freely about each other in the absence of such of their fellow clubmen as were under discussion. Barter was spoken of as Steinberg’s Mug, Berg’s Juggins, Stein’s Spoofmarker. It was generally admitted that Stein made a good thing out of him, and the wonder was where Barter got his money. There was a pretty general apprehension that the young man, at no very far future date, would come to grief. The contemplation of this probability affected the Boosters but little in an emotional way, but it made them keen to see that Mr. Barter paid up punctually, and though they were very shy of paper acceptances from their comrades as a general thing, they were shyer of his than of most men’s.