t into a rut and stay there. Long before the
old-time grafting circuses grew scarce and scarcer, and before the
street-fairing concessions progressed out of their primitive beginnings
into orderly and recognized organizations, he had quitted both fields
for higher and more lucrative ramifications of his craft. Ask any
old-time con man who ostensibly has reformed. If he tells you the
truth--which is doubtful--he will tell you it was Chappy Marr who really
evolved the fake foot-racing game, who patched up the leaks in the
wireless wire-tapping game, who standardized at least two popular forms
of the send game, who improved marvelously upon three differing versions
of the pay-off game.

All the time he was perfecting himself in his profession, fitting
himself for the practice of it in its highermost departments. He learned
to tone down his wardrobe. He polished his manners until they had a
gloss on them. He labored assiduously to correct his grammar, and so
well succeeded at the task that except when he was among associates and
relapsed into the argot of the breed, he used language fit for a college
professor--fit for some college professors anyway. At thirty he was a
glib, spry person with a fancy for gay housings. At forty-five, when he
reached the top of his swing, he had the looks, the vocabulary and the
presence of an educated and a traveled person.

He had one technical defect, if defect it might be called. In the larger
affairs of his unhallowed business he displayed a mental adaptability, a
talent to think quickly and shift his tactics to meet the suddenly
arisen emergency, which was the envy of lesser underworld notables; but
in smaller details of life he was prone to follow the line of least
resistance, which is true of the most of us, honest and dishonest men
the same. For instance, though he had half a dozen or more common
aliases--names which he changed as he changed his collars--he pursued a
certain fixed rule in choosing them, just as a man in picking out
neckties might favor mixed weaves and varied patterns but stick always
to the same general color scheme. He might be Vincent C. Marr, which was
his proper name, or among intimates Chappy Marr. Then again he might be
Col. Van Camp Morgan, of Louisiana; or Mr. Vance C. Michaels, a Western
mine owner; or Victor C. Morehead; he might be a Markham or a Murrill or
a Marsh or a Murphy as the occasion and the role and his humor suited.
Always, though, the initials