ou could gain retribution for this great wrong, would you then
be courageous, and carry it out handsomely?"

"Would I? Never fear me there. I'll show you that I'm not one to bow my
neck to the insults of a money-holder. I'll carry out anything you say."

"Bravo! my boy; you've got the right kind of spirit in you; that's what
I like to see--you're a man of pluck."

"About when do you think you'll have this grand plot ready for me, eh?"

"The first dark night."

"You'll consult the clerk of the we-weather as to when that is c-coming,
eh?"

"I suppose so," said Clinton, laughing. "Meanwhile, come down to my
house the last of the week, say Friday night, and I'll have all things
in cap-a-pie order for you."

"How do I know where to find you, my more than brother," said Arthur,
clasping Clinton's hand closely.

"Quirk knows the way. You'll come?"

"Depend upon it."

"Good! that's settled; now for a bumper on it."

"Well, I don't know, Clinton; I--I--declare I'm afr-afraid I'll be (hic)
drunk if I drink any more."

"Nonsense! down with it; let's finish the last bottle."

The wine was swallowed, and Clinton, taking Arthur's hand in his, shook
it heartily.

"Ah! my boy, you've proved yourself 'one of us' to-night; glad to claim
you as a b-hoy. Whenever you're in want or trouble, signal the b-hoys,
and you'll be helped out of it. It's a better society than any of the
Odd Fellows or Free Masons can ever be, and costs you nothing besides.
What say you now for a stroll?"

"Agreed! for my part, I am ready for anything."

"Then hurrah, boys!" cried Clinton, beginning to sing a lively air; and
lighting their cigars, they passed out into the saloon.

"Put all this in my bill, Quibbles," said Clinton, as he passed that
gentleman, on his way to the door.

"That'll do, sir--all right."

With noise and laughter, and rude jest, the drunken trio went down the
street. It needed but a glance to show that the younger of the three, he
with the bright complexion and jetty hair, was but a novice in
dissipation, and more than one felt a glow of pity, as he jostled past
them in the light of the bright windows of Royal-street. Alas! alas!
Arthur; where was the ghost in your heart now? that haggard figure,
pointing ever with its skinny finger backward!

They kept on until they reached St. Ann-street, into which they turned;
as they did so, their attention was attracted by the appearance of a
slight female figure, with a short