n a newly laid egg.

"No, I don't think you do," he laughed, "or you wouldn't hold it upside
down. Now go on and give me the rest."

Gadgem emitted a chuckle--the nearest he ever came to a laugh: "To have
it go ON, sir, is infinitely preferable than to have it go OFF, sir.
He-he! And you have, I believe you said, two of these highly valuable
implements of death?"

"Yes, five altogether--two of this kind. Here, Todd"--and he picked up
the gun--"put it back behind the door."

Gadgem felt in his inside pocket, produced and consulted a memorandum
with the air of a man who wanted to be entirely sure, and in a bland
voice said:

"I should think at your time of life--if you will permit me, sir--that
one less gun would not seriously inconvenience you. Would you permit me,
sir, to hope that--"

St. George looked up from his plate and a peculiar expression flitted
across his face.

"You mean you want to buy it?"

The bill collector made a little movement forward and scrutinized St.
George's face with the eye of a hawk. For a man of Temple's kidney to be
without a fowling piece was like a king being without a crown. This
was the crucial moment. Gadgem knew Temple's class, and knew just how
delicately he must be handled. If St. George's pride, or his love for
his favorite chattels--things personal to himself--should overcome him,
the whole scheme would fall to the ground. That any gentleman of
his standing had ever seen the inside of a pawn-shop in his life was
unthinkable. This was what Gadgem faced. As for Todd, he had not drawn a
full breath since Gadgem opened his case.

"Not EXactly buy it, sir," purred Gadgem, twisting his body into
an obsequious spiral. "Men of your position do not traffic in such
things--but if you would be persuaded, sir, for a money consideration
which you would fix yourself--say the ORIGinal cost of the gun--to
spare one of your five--you would greatly delight--in fact, you would
overWHELM with gratitude--a friend of mine."

St. George hesitated, looked out of the window and a brand-new thought
forced its way into his mind--as if a closet had been suddenly opened,
revealing a skeleton he had either forgotten or had put permanently
out of sight. There WAS need of this "original cost"--instant
need--something he had entirely forgotten. Jemima would soon need
it--perhaps needed it at that very minute. He had, it was true, often
kept her waiting: but that was when he could pay at his pleasure; n