come in from. And as long as I'd known him I've never seen Twombley-Crane thaw out so much. Why, he acts almost human as he shakes hands! Then he takes the package from under his arm and unwraps it.

"The Whistler that I'd given up all hope of ever getting!" says he, gazin' at it admirin' and enthusiastic.

"So?" says I, non-committal.

"And now it appears mysteriously, sent from here," says he. "Why, my dear fellow, how can I ever——"

"You don't have to," I breaks in, "because it wa'n't from me at all."

"But they told me at the district office," he goes on, "that the call came from——"

"I know," says I. "That's straight enough as far as it goes. But you know that ain't in my line. I was only passin' it on for someone else."

"For whom?" he demands.29

29

"That's tellin'," says I. "It's a secret."

"Oh, but I must know," says he, "to whom I am indebted so deeply. You don't realize, McCabe, how delighted I am to get hold of this gem of Whistler's. Why, it makes my collection the most complete to be found in any private gallery!"

"Well, you ought to be satisfied then," says I. "Why not let it go at that?"

But not him. No, he'd got to thank somebody; to pay 'em, if he could.

"How much, for instance?" says I.

"Why, I should readily have given five thousand for it," says he; "ten, if necessary."

"Not fifteen?" says I.

"I think I would," says he.

"Huh!" says I. "Some folks don't care what they do with money. We'll split the diff'rence though, and call it twelve and a half. But it don't cost you a cent. It's yours because you wanted it, that's all; and maybe the one that sent it is glad you've got it. That's as far as I can go."

"But see here, McCabe!" he insists. "Delighted as I am, I must know who it is that——"

Just here the front office door opens, and in walks J. Bayard. For a second he don't 

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