ay. My tongue seemed glued to my teeth. I brushed my
hat and began to look for my cigar. What I was really looking for was my
wits.

"He went on talking. 'Charley,' he says, 'I'm desperate. I'm down and
out. For God's sake give me some money? What are you?' he says, 'what
are you doing here? I thought you were a sailor. You look prosperous.
Give me--lend me some money, or I'll have to take it.'

"While he went on like this, sometimes threatening, sometimes whining, I
was collecting my faculties. The feeling that some one had wrapped
copper wire tight round my neck was going away. I found my cigar. I
struck a match, and by the light of it I saw my brother again.

"Yes, he was down and out. He had not had a shave for a week, his hat
had been picked off a rubbish-heap, his trousers were muddied and torn
at the knees, his coat was buttoned up to hide his black, hairy chest.
He had no shirt. He was down and out.

"I settled in my mind what had happened before I spoke. This brother of
mine had apparently made an exception in my favour. He had crept up
behind me with the deliberate intention of strangling me and picking my
pocket. Seeing my face he had decided that he could pick my pocket
without strangling me.

"The curious thing was that I had no feeling of anger towards him. What
filled me with a sort of panic was the fact that my brother had come
back into my life. I hadn't realized it so plainly before, but he
scared me. I suppose he saw something of this in my face, for he says,
'Charley, let bygones be bygones, old man. Help me make a fresh start!'

"'Hold on,' I said. 'The last time I saw you, Frank, you had bags of
money. You had my place in the house----.' 'Oh, dry up!' he says, 'never
mind what I had, look at me now. Charley, look at me. I've walked every
foot of the way from Rosario. I'm broke, cleaned out, desperate. I've
nothing to lose.'

"'You never had,' I told him. 'What do you want me to do?'

"Well, what do you think he asked me for? Nothing less than fifty
pounds. He seemed to have a mania for fifty pounds. He couldn't demean
himself, even in that state, to make it less. You might say he thought
in fifties. 'Good God, man!' I said, 'do you think I'm made of money?'
'You look prosperous, Charley. Give me what you have and I'll take the
rest to-morrow.' 'I'll do nothing of the sort,' I said. 'Here's my car.'
And a Number Forty-eight came down _Victoria_. 'Is it?' says he. 'It's
mine too, then,' and