ed out of what he got for
the game, eh?"

"It was supposed Sir Winterton found the money," said Foster, "but
nothing was known. Sir Winterton refused to make any statement. He said
his friends would know what to think, and he didn't care a damn (that was
his word) about anybody else. Still some weren't satisfied. But the talk
died away, except here and there among the men who'd been Tom's pals. I
daresay Tom gave 'em a rabbit now and again in exchange for a pot of
beer, and they missed him." Mr. Foster ended with a little chuckle.

"I think Sir Winterton might have been a little more explicit," Quisante
remarked. "There's some excuse for thinking an explanation not
unnecessary. What became of the girl? Did she go to Manitoba?"

"I believe she did in the end, but she'd married a man from Dunn's works
and left the town three months after her father was sent to prison."

Quisante came back to the hearth and stood looking down on old Foster.

"Rather a queer story," he said. "But I meant, was there anything against
him of a public nature, in his local record, anything of that sort, you
know."

"I know nothing of that kind," said Foster, raising his eyes and meeting
his leader's. He looked rather puzzled, as if he were still not quite
sure what Quisante's question had meant, in spite of Quisante's
explanation of it. "I'd almost forgotten this, but Japhet Williams
mentioned it the other day. You know Japhet by now. He said he thought he
ought to ask Sir Winterton to make a statement."

A sudden gleam shot through Quisante's eyes.

"Mr. Williams' active conscience at work again?" he asked with a sneering
laugh.

"That's it," said Foster, still looking stolidly at his chief. "But I
know Sir Winterton; he'd only say what he did before."

Quisante turned, flung the end of his cigar into the grate, and turned
back to Foster, saying,

"Mr. Williams must do as he thinks right; but of course I can't have any
hand in a matter of that kind."

"Just so, just so," murmured Foster as hurriedly but even more vaguely
than usual. His chief was puzzling him still.

"I can't have anything at all to do with it," Quisante repeated
emphatically. Foster did not quite know whence he gathered the
impression, but he was left with the feeling that, if he should chance
ever to be asked what had passed between them on the subject, he must
remember this sentence at least, whatever else of the conversation he
recollected or forgot.

"Of