"Well, well, Tim," went on Dick. "What have you been doing with yourself since last we met? You've have grown considerable. Is the paper business good?" "Fine, thanks to the start you gave me, Mr. Ham--I mean Dick. I'm running three stands now, and I have two assistants. I get time to go to night school, now, and I'm studying bookkeeping." Dick had noticed that Tim spoke better language than formerly, for the use of "dis," "dat," "youse" and kindred expressions was almost entirely eliminated from his conversation. "Where are you going now, Tim?" asked Dick, when they had exchanged some remarks. "Home. I've just finished work. Have to get ready for the early morning papers soon, though, so I'm bound for home." "No, you're not!" exclaimed the rich youth. "You're coming to have something to eat with me. It's lonesome dining alone. Come on, hop in and we'll be there in no time. Then I'll run you up home in this buzz-wagon." "But, Dick, I haven't any decent clothes on. I've been working and----" "Nonsense! What do I care about clothes? Get in. We'll hire a private room if you're so afraid some one will see you." "It isn't that, only you----" "Don't you worry about me; get in." Tim complied, rather diffidently, and the much-wondering chauffeur started the car again. As it went along there was another closely following it, and, as the vehicle containing Dick and Tim made various turns and twists through the different streets, to reach the restaurant, the other taxicab did the same. Finally Tim, whose life in New York had made him quick-witted along certain lines, leaned out of the open cab, looked back and said: "Any of your friends in that machine, Dick?" "Friends? No. Why?" "Because it's sticking to us like court-plaster. Say, sport," and Tim leaned forward to the chauffeur, "are you wise to de--I mean _the_ fact that we're being chased?" "Hadn't noticed it," replied the driver, shortly. "Well, we are. Is it a fly-cop; or has your license expired?" "Search me," was the characteristic reply of the chauffeur. "But we'll give 'em a run for their money," and increasing speed, he turned first down one street and up another until, after five minutes' run, the other cab was not in sight. "We either lost 'em, or else they got wise and dropped back," was Tim's opinion. "But who were they, Dick?" "I can't imagine, unless they are some cranks who like to look at a chap because he has a little money. Maybe they're fellows who hope to work me for some game like Colonel Dendon did, when he tried to sell me fake mining shares. I've noticed a couple of men who kept rather close watch on me once or twice to-day, but I guess we've lost track of them. Well, here we are; come in and have a good meal." Dick paid, and dismissed the chauffeur, for other taxicabs could be summoned at the restaurant. As the young millionaire and Tim entered the place another machine came to a stop near the curb, a short distance away.