"Precisely so. In prison Jones took a foolish oath. He registered a vow to pay back every dollar to those who had lost their good money in that fake rubber company. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he was determined that he would. In a way, they were his enemies, for they had helped prosecute him; the courts had adjudged him guilty, and he felt that he could never hold up his head as an honest man until those who had been defrauded got the last cent of coin back. In some way he must acquire a huge amount of filthy lucre, and acquire it honestly. He dreamed of gold mines. When the prison spat him forth he made his way up into Alaska. There his dream came true, for, with his partners, he located and developed a great mine. They could have sold out a dozen times, but never for a sum that would permit Jones to accomplish his purpose with his share of the price. So he held on. And at last a syndicate made an offer that was sufficient. Jones was notified by his partners. He accepted. But not until the deal was put through and he had the certified check for his interest in his clutches did he breathe a word of it to any one. Then he told me. He was sick, but his success helped cure him. He was eager to hurry North and set into action the machinery for distributing that money to the rubber company's victims. At this very moment he is interviewing a reputable firm of lawyers and giving them instructions to proceed about the work. He can supply a full list of the persons defrauded. They'll get back what they lost, and Jones will find himself poor again--but satisfied." Lefty's eyes were shining. "In these days of the great American idea of grafting and fraud," he said, "a man with a conscience like Jones' is one in ten thousand." "Say, rather, one in a million, mate. I have reviled him extemporaneously. I have told him that he is a fool. I'm honest myself--when it's absolutely necessary. But to part with a scandalous sum like two hundred and fifty thousand without being positively compelled to do so--oh, pardon me while I sob!" "A man with such principles, and Jones' ability to pitch, will not come to grief. He has a job before him with the Blue Stockings." Wiley shook his head. "Apprehension percheth upon me, Lefty. Jones has accomplished the great purpose of his life. It was what fired him and spurred him on. I regret to elucidate that since that money came to him he has displayed no interest whatever in baseball. When I sought to make him talk about it he wouldn't even wigwag a finger on the subject. Something seems to tell me that he'll never again ascend the mound and shoot the horsehide over the pentagon." CHAPTER XXXIV WEEGMAN'S PROPOSAL