hat you have to say and be quick about it. I have no time to listen to
nonsense and no heart to attend to it.' His eye brightened; he did not
cast a glance at the smoking victuals about him, though I knew he was
hungry as a dog. 'It is no nonsense,' said he, 'that I have to
communicate to you.' And then I saw he had once been a gentleman. 'For
two years and a half have I been searching for you,' he went on, 'in
order that I might recall to your mind a little incident. You remember
the afternoon of February, the twenty-fifth, two years ago?'

"'No,' said I, in great surprise, for his whole countenance was flushed
with expectancy. 'What was there about that day that I should remember
it?' He smiled and bent his face nearer to mine. 'Don't you recollect a
little conversation you had in a small eating-house in Dey Street, with
a gentleman of a high-sounding voice to whom you were obliged
continually to say 'hush!'" I stared at the man, as you may believe,
with some notion of his being a wandering lunatic. 'I have never taken a
meal in any eating-house in Dey Street,' I declared, motioning to a
waiter to approach us. The man observing it, turned swiftly upon me. 'Do
you think I care for any such petty _fuss_ as that?' asked he,
indicating the rather slightly built man I had called to my rescue,
while he covertly studied my face to observe the effect of his words.

"I started. I could not help it; this use of an expression almost
peculiar to myself, assured me that the man knew me better than I
supposed. Involuntarily I waved the waiter back and turned upon the man
with an inquiring look.

"'I thought you might consider it worth your while to listen,' said he,
smiling with the air of one who has or thinks he has a grip upon you.
Then suddenly, 'You are a rich man, are you not? a proud man and an
honored one. You hold a position of trust and are considered worthy of
it; how would you like men to know that you once committed a mean and
dirty trick; that those white hands that have the handling of such large
funds at present, have in days gone by been known to dip into such funds
a little too deeply; that, in short, you, Bertram Sylvester, cashier of
the Madison Bank, and looking forward to no one knows what future honors
and emoluments, have been in a position better suited to a felon's cell
than the trusted agent of a great and wealthy corporation?'

"I did not collar him; I was too dumb-stricken for any such display of
ind