ight.

"You can trust me all right enough if the matter is clean and honest.
I'll do nothing dirty for you or anybody else. I've seen too much."

"Oh, it's clean enough. I don't dirty my hands with dishonest
dealings. I simply do my duty."

"But your sense of duty is an exaggerated one--peculiar. I notice that
it takes the form of any practices which you consider will advance
your personal interests."

"It so happens that my 'personal interests' are synonymous with the
interests of those I serve. But all I require is the delivery of a
letter in Winnipeg, at a certain time on a given date. I can't trust
the post for a very particular reason, and as for the telegraph, that
wouldn't answer my purpose. I could employ a messenger, but that would
not do either--a disinterested messenger could be got at. You, I know,
couldn't be--er--influenced. If you fail me, then I must do it myself,
which means that I must leave my bride shortly after the ceremony
to-day, and not return to her until Friday, more than two days hence.
That's how the matter stands. I will pay all your expenses and give
you a substantial present to boot. Just for delivering a letter to the
chief of police in Winnipeg. I will go and write it at once if you
consent."

Robb shook his head doubtfully.

"I must know more than that. First, I must know, in confidence of
course, the object of that letter. And, secondly, who is to be the
victim of your machinations. Without these particulars you can count
me 'out.' I'll be no party to anything I might afterwards have cause
to regret."

"That settles it then," replied Grey resentfully. "I can't reveal the
name of my 'victim,' as you so graphically put it. You happen to know
him, I believe, and are on a friendly footing with him." He finished
up with a callous laugh.

Robb's eyes shone wickedly.

"By Jove, Grey, you've sunk pretty low in your efforts to regain your
lost position. I always knew that you hadn't a particle of feeling in
your whole body for any one but yourself, but I didn't think you'd
treat me to a taste of your rotten ways. Were it not for the sake of
Alice Gordon's chum, the girl you are going to marry, I wouldn't be
your best man. You have become utterly impossible, and, after to-day's
event, I wash my hands of you. Damn it, you're a skunk!"

Grey laughed loudly, but there was no mirth in his hilarity. It was a
heartless, nervous laugh.

"Easy, Robb, don't get on your high horse," he said