se very things that sometimes gets stung. It isn't at all likely,
I'll admit, that the simple delivery of this money a distance of a few
blocks requires all this 'fuss,' as you call it; but why take chances
just to save a little trouble? Pays to play safe every time, J. C.
What about that detective, Alderson?"

"Oh, that feller's on the job. Here, you can see'm standin' out there
on the corner, waitin' fer our man to show up." Podmore followed
Alderson to the window. "Naw, over there to the right--beside the
post. Must be a good half hour since his office phoned he was leavin'.
Say, he's lookin' up here. I'll give 'm the high sign now."

"Well, I guess everything's O.K., then. Call in your messenger and get
a move on. I'm due at the depot soon to meet the Chief." Podmore
dropped into a chair and lighted a cigarette with a look of
satisfaction on his face.

Alderson leaned over and pressed a button. The young man who responded
was James Stiles, bookkeeper and general office clerk. As he stood in
the doorway, respectful enquiry in his whole attitude, pen in hand,
linen office jacket sagging at the pockets, forearms encased in black
sateen sleeve-protectors and a daub of ink on his fingers, there was
little to distinguish him from hundreds of his type to be seen in
modern offices. He had rather a pleasant face, Podmore thought, a
little dull perhaps in its ingenuousness. He was not much more than a
boy.

"Jimmy," instructed Alderson briskly, "drop whatever you're at and take
this satchel over to Mr. Ferguson's office in the Brokers' Bank
Building. It's got some mighty important legal papers inside an' I
want you to be sure an' hand it personally to Mr. Ferguson himself. I
told him I'd send 'em over right after lunch; so you don't need to say
nothin'--just hand it to Mr. Ferguson, y'understand. Blatchford
Ferguson, the lawyer,--you know where his office is."

"Yes, sir. Want me to ask for a receipt?"

"Uh? No, never mind a receipt. It'll be all right."

The young bookkeeper picked up the satchel, nodding respectfully to the
President of the Interprovincial Loan & Savings Company as he quietly
closed the door behind him. He had been formerly employed at the
Interprovincial; in fact, it was to Nickleby's personal recommendation
that he owed his present position with the construction company.

The departure of Stiles with the satchel, of whose precious contents he
had been kept in ignorance, was a