he seated Agnes in the front of the
car beside him, with Starlett and Allstyne and Aunt Constance in the
tonneau, and went whirling through the streets and up the avenue. It
was but a brief trip, not over a half-hour, and they had scarcely a
chance to exchange a word; but just to be up front there alone with
her meant a whole lot to Bobby.

Afterward he took the other fellows down to the gymnasium, where Biff
Bates drew him to one side.

"Look here, old pal!" said Bates. "I saw you real chummy with T. W.
Tight-Wad Trimmer to-night."

"Yes?" admitted Bobby interrogatively.

"Well, you know I don't go around with my hammer out, but I want to
put you wise to this mut. He's in with a lot of political graft, for
one thing, and he's a sure thing guy for another. He likes to take a
flyer at the bangtails a few times a season, and last summer he
welshed on Joe Poog's book; claimed Joe misunderstood his fingers for
two thousand in place of two hundred."

"Well, maybe there was a mistake," said Bobby, loath to believe such a
monstrous charge against any one whom he knew.

"Mistake nawthin'," insisted Biff. "Joe Poog don't take finger bets
for hundreds, and Trimmer never did bet that way. He's a born welsher,
anyhow. He looks the part, and I just want to tell you, Bobby, that if
you go to the mat with this crab you'll get up with the marks of his
pinchers on your windpipe; that's all."

Early the next morning--that is, at about ten o'clock--Bobby bounced
energetically into the office of Barrister and Coke, where old Mr.
Barrister, who had been his father's lawyer for a great many years,
received him with all the unbending grace of an ebony cane.

"I have come to find out who were the trustees appointed by my father,
Mr. Barrister," began Bobby, with a cheerful air of expecting to be
informed at once, "not that I wish to inquire about the estate, but
that I need some advice on entirely different matters."

"I shall be glad to serve you with any legal advice that you may
need," offered Mr. Barrister, patting his finger-tips gently together.

"Are you the trustee?"

"No, sir"--this with a dusty smile.

"Who is, then?"

"The only information which I am at liberty to give you upon that
point," said Mr. Barrister drily, "is that contained in your father's
will. Would you care to examine a copy of that document again?"

"No, thanks," declined Bobby politely. "It's too truthful for
comfort."

From there he went straigh