“Oh, shut up!” his host said at last. “How the devil are we going to get out of this?”      

       Mr. Horser left the room and returned with a tumbler full of brandy and a very little water.     

       “Take a drink yourself,” he said. “It’ll steady you.”      

       “Oh, I’m steady enough,” Mr. Mace replied impatiently. “I want to know how you’re going to get us out of this. What was the charge, anyhow?”      

       “Passing forged bills,” Horser answered. “Parsons fixed it up.”      

       Mr. Mace turned a shade paler.     

       “Where the devil’s the sense in a charge like that?” he answered fiercely.       “The man’s a millionaire. He’ll turn the tables on us nicely.”      

       “We’ve got to keep him till after the Campania sails, anyhow,” Horser said doggedly.     

       “We’re not going to keep him ten minutes,” Mace replied. “I’m going to sign the order for his release.”      

       Horser’s speech was thick with drunken fury. “By —- I’ll see that you don’t!” he exclaimed.     

       Mace turned upon him angrily.     

       “You selfish fool!” he muttered. “You’re not in the thing, anyhow. If you think I’m going to risk my position for the sake of one little job you’re wrong. I shall go down myself and release him, with an apology.”      

       “He’ll have his revenge all the same,” Horser answered. “It’s too late now to funk the thing. They can’t budge you. We’ll see to that. We hold New       York in our hands. Be a man, Mace, and run a little risk. It’s fifty thousand.”      

       Mace looked up at him curiously.     

       “What do you get out of it, Horser?”      

       Horser’s face hardened.     

       “Not one cent!” he declared fiercely. “Only if I fail it might be unpleasant for me next time I crossed.”      

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