be out in a moment."

There was the noise of splashing water, accompanied by sundry exclamations and snorts, followed by a period of silence; and, then, from the bath room, emerged Croyden clad in a robe, slippers, and a smile.

"Help yourself," he said, pointing to the smoking materials. He filled a pipe, lit it carefully, blew a few whiffs to the ceiling and watched them slowly dissipate.

"Well, it's come," he remarked: "Royster & Axtell have smashed clean."

"Not clean," said Macloud. "It is going to be the most criminal failure this town has ever known."

"I mean they have busted wide open--and I'm one of the suckers."

"You are going to have plenty of company, among your friends," Macloud answered.

"I suppose so--but I hope none of them is hit quite so bad." He blew another cloud of smoke and watched it fade. "The truth is, Colin, I'm done for."

"What!" exclaimed Macloud. "You don't mean you are cleaned out?"

The other nodded. "That's about it.... I've a few thousand left--enough to pay laundry bills, and to board on Hash Alley for a few months a year. Oh! I was a sucker, all right!--I was so easy it makes me ashamed to have saved _anything_ from the wreck. I've a notion to go and offer it to them, now."

There were both bitterness and relief in his tones; bitterness over the loss, relief that the worst, at last, had happened.

For a while, there was silence. Croyden turned away and began to dress; Macloud sat looking out on the lawn in front, where a foursome were playing the home hole, and another waiting until they got off the green.

Presently, the latter spoke.

"How did it happen, old man?" he asked--"that is, if you care to tell."

Croyden laughed shortly. "It isn't pleasant to relate how one has been such an addle-pated ass----"

"Then, forgive me.--I didn't mean to----"

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