er. If I am
in jail awaiting trial, the bet cannot be settled until the law has had
its way, and I am either proven innocent or guilty. Is that
satisfactory?"

"Perfectly. But what class of crime will you commit?"

"My friend you are inquisitive. The wager is on, and my boasted caution
must begin. Therefore, I must not tell you anything of the nature of my
intended crime!"

"Why, do you suppose for an instant that I would betray you?"

"Well, yes, that idea does occur to me. Listen. As I said before, the
necessities of the criminal prove his Nemesis. The necessities involve
the object of the crime. That is always a good starting-point in
following up a mysterious case. The more unusual the object the better,
since it will fit fewer people. Plunder is the commonest and therefore
the least promising to trace from. Revenge is common also, but better,
because the special revenge connected with the deed must lead to the
special individual most likely to execute such revenge. In this
instance, I mean my own case, the object of the crime is so unique, that
the detective who discovers it should be able to convict me. A crime
committed to decide a wager is perhaps new."

"Its very novelty is your best safeguard."

"Yet there are two ways by which it may be discovered, and that is two
too many. Had I undertaken this affair secretly there would really have
been but a single way for one to learn my secret,--my own confession. As
men have been weak enough to do this before now, I should even in that
instance have taken precautions. But with my secret in the possession of
a second party, the position is more complex."

"I assure you on my honor that I will not betray you. I will agree to
forfeit five times the wager in such an event."

"I prefer that you should be perfectly at liberty in the matter. I
expect it to be thus: in your own mind at present you do not think that
I shall carry out my purpose. Therefore, your friendship for me is
undisturbed. Then you count that, if I do commit a crime, it will be
some trivial one that you may bring your conscience to excuse, under the
circumstances. But let us suppose that a really great crime should be
reported, and for some reason you should suspect me. You will hurry to
my rooms before I get out of bed, and ask me flatly whether I am guilty.
As flatly I should refuse to enlighten you. You would take this as a
confession of guilt. You would perhaps argue that if your surmise were