me back vacuously.

"Craps?--they say our boys did shoot craps a good deal over there.
Well--uh--they were risking their lives."

And that's as near as any of them came, I suppose, to understanding how
a weariness of the little interweaving plans of tamed men had pushed
Worth Gilbert into carelessly staking his birthright on a chance that
might lend interest to life, a hazard big enough to breeze the staleness
out of things for him.

We were leaving the bank, Gilbert and I ahead, Cummings right at my
boy's shoulder, the others holding back to speak together, (bitterly
enough, if I am any guesser) when Worth said suddenly,

"You mentioned in there it's being illegal for the bank to give up the
pursuit of Clayte. Seems funny to me, but I suppose you know what
you're talking about. Anyhow"--he was lighting another cigarette and he
glanced sharply at Cummings across it--"anyhow, they won't waste their
money hunting Clayte now, should you say? That's my job. That's where I
get my cash back."

"Oh, that's where, is it?" The lawyer's dry tone might have been
regarded as humorous. We stood in the deep doorway, hunching coat
collars, looking into the foggy street. Worth's interest in life seemed
to be freshening moment by moment.

"Yes," he agreed briskly. "I'm going to keep you and Boyne busy for a
while. You'll have to show me how to hustle the payment for those
Shylocks, and Jerry's got to find the suitcase, so I can eat. But I'll
help him."

Cummings stared at the boy.

"Gilbert," he said, "where are you going?--right now, I mean."

"To Boyne's office."

We stepped out to the street where the line of limousines waited for the
old fellows inside, my own battleship-gray roadster, pretty well
hammered but still a mighty capable machine, far down at the end. As
Worth moved with me toward it, the lawyer walked at his elbow.

"Seat for me?" he glanced at the car. "I've a few words of one syllable
to say to this young man--council that I ought to get in as early as
possible."

I looked at little Pete dozing behind the wheel, and answered,

"Take you all right, if I could drive. But I sprained my thumb on a
window lock looking over that room at the St. Dunstan."

"I'll drive." Worth had circled the car with surprising quickness for so
large a man. I saw him on the other side, waiting for Pete to get out so
he could get in. Curious the intimate, understanding look he gave the
monkey as he flipped a coin at him with,