signal for the separation of the trio
in Alderson's office. With a wave of the hand Podmore hurried off
towards the Union Station, and presently J. Cuthbert Nickleby made his
way more leisurely to his waiting automobile.

On the corner opposite the building in which the Alderson Construction
Company had its down-town offices the man from the Brady Detective
Agency was lighting a fresh cigar. He sauntered around the corner,
then quickened his pace to get closer to the briskly walking young man
with the tan satchel. He continued to follow the bookkeeper at a
convenient distance.

It was the season when those who have the misfortune to be confined to
indoor tasks chafe most in the leash--a beautiful May day of blue sky
and sunshine and balmy air that called insistently to open places of
green grass and the luxury of idleness and vagrant dreaming. Young
Jimmy Stiles felt the call and he skipped along with carefree enjoyment
of his brief respite. He laughed gaily at a pair of dogs who seemed
inclined to question each other's veracity and sent them scampering
with a whoop, swinging the satchel around his head. He pulled down his
vest, felt his tie and winked boldly as he passed a pretty girl. He
broke into a whistle presently, practising the latest rag-time air with
an earnestness which found no ennui in repetition of tune, and it was
while thus absorbed that he went by the Jessup Grill. He was well
beyond the entrance before he realized that his name was being called
and that somebody had darted out from the doorway to overtake him.

"Oh, there, Jimmy! Won't you say good-bye to me?"

"Why, hello, Mr. Clayton," grinned Stiles as he took the extended hand.
"Goin' away?"

"Holidays can't last forever, Jimmy. I'm leaving for home this
afternoon--just getting ready to go to the depot when I saw you. Come
on in and join me in a glass of beer for good luck."

"Nothin' doin'! 'The lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine',"
recited Stiles, rolling his eyes in exaggerated piety. "No, honest, I
can't," he protested as the other pulled on his arm. "I'm on an
important message for the boss an' I got to hustle right back to the
office."

"Aw, come on. It won't take a minute. I'm in a hustle myself to catch
the train; but I want to give you a message for----" Robert Clayton
hesitated, coughed in slight embarrassment, and looked helpless.
"----for somebody you know up at the church," he pleaded.

Jimmy Stil