ess; he still nursed it. Thus,
it was beneath his dignity to accept a position as a clerk in a store
or shop. The fact that his pristine glory was somewhat dimmed to the
eyes of his fellow citizens in no wise disturbed Bill. Sometimes, when
he was inclined to let loose the flood-gates of memory, his friends
would slip a quarter into his palm and bid him get a drink, this being
the easiest method of getting rid of him.

Bill marched into the Warrington place jauntily. He wore a tie. Jove
ran out and sniffed the frayed hems of his trousers. But like all men
of his ilk, he possessed the gift of making friends with dogs. He
patted Jove's broad head, spoke to him, and the dog wagged what there
was left of his tail. Bill proceeded to the front door and resolutely
rang the bell. The door opened presently.

"Is Richard in?" Bill asked. He had had only two drinks that evening.

"Mr. Warrington is in," answered the valet, with chilling dignity.
"What is your business?"

"Mine!" thundered Bill, who had a democratic contempt for a
gentleman's gentleman. "I have important business to transact with
your master. Take this card in to him. He'll see me."

The valet looked at the greasy card. The name was written in ink; the
card was of the kind one finds in hotels for the convenience of the
guests.

"I will take the card to Mr. Warrington," the valet promised
reluctantly. There was, however, a barely perceptible grin struggling
at the corners of his mouth. He was not wholly devoid of the sense of
humor, as a gentleman's gentleman should at all times be.

"William Osborne? What the deuce does he want here?" asked Warrington
impatiently.

"He said his business was important, sir. If it is half as important
as he acts--"

"No comments, please. Show Mr. Osborne in."

Warrington turned all his mail face-downward. He knew Bill of
aforetime, in the old newspaper days. Bill had marvelously keen eyes,
for all that they were watery. The valet ushered him into the study.
He wore his usual blase expression. He sat down and drew up his chair
to the desk.

"Well, Mr. Osborne, what's on your mind to-night?" Warrington leaned
back.

"The truth is, Richard," began William, "I found this letter on the
pavement this afternoon. Guess you'd been down to the hotel this
afternoon, and dropped it. I found it out in front. There was no
envelope, so I couldn't help reading it."

Warrington seized the letter eagerly. It was the only letter of