p to the house again, to see my
wife."

"About the old matter?"

"Yes; she isn't quite satisfied about the kid's death, and she won't
make a will in my favor till she is. She wants to ask you a few
questions."

Floyd made a wry face.

"She's as bad as a lawyer. I say, Abner, I'm afraid I'll get tripped
up."

"You must stick to the old story."

"What was it?"

"Don't you remember you said that the kid hired a boat to row in the
harbor along with two other boys, and the boat was upset and all three
were drowned?"

"Yes, I remember. It's a smart yarn, isn't it?" grinned Floyd.

"Yes, but you mustn't let her doubt it. You remember how you came to
know about the drowning?"

"No, I forget."

Abner Trimble frowned.

"Look here, Floyd. You'd better remember, or you won't get the money I
promised you. You were out in a boat yourself, and saw the whole thing.
You jumped into the water, and tried to save the kid, but it was no
use. He went to the bottom--and that was the end of him!"

"A very pretty story," said Floyd, complacently. "Won't I get somethin'
for tryin' to save the kid's life?"

"As like as not. I'll suggest it to the old lady myself."

"When do you want me to go up to the house?"

"Now. The lawyer's coming at four o'clock, and I want you to confirm
Mrs. T. in her belief in the boy's death."

"It's dry talkin', Abner," said Floyd, significantly.

"Take a glass of sarsaparilla, then."

"Sarsaparilla!" repeated Floyd, contemptuously. "That's only fit for
children."

"Lemon soda, then."

"What's the matter with whisky?"

"Are you a fool? Do you think Mrs. T. will believe your story if you
come to her smelling of whisky?"

"You're hard on me, Abner. Just one little glass."

"You can put that off till afterward. Here, take some lemon soda, or
I'll mix you a glass of lemonade."

"Well, if I must," said Floyd, in a tone of resignation.

"You can have as much whisky as you like afterward."

"Then the sooner we get over the job the better. I'm ready now."

"Here, Tim, take my place," said Abner Trimble, calling his barkeeper;
"I'm going to the house for an hour. Now come along."

Abner Trimble lived in a comfortable dwelling in the nicer portion of
the city. It belonged to his wife when he married her, and he had
simply taken up his residence in her house. He would have liked to have
lived nearer the saloon, and had suggested this to his wife, but she
was attached to her home and was un