big
chairs and laughing hugely.

"Mr. Daw, shake hands with Mr. Willis, a friend of mine from
Filmore," said Wallingford. "Order a drink, Daw."

As he spoke, he untied the bag, and, taking its lower corners, sifted
the mixture of cards and greenbacks upon the table. Daw, in the act of
shaking hands, stopped with gaping jaws.

"What in Moses is that?" he asked.

"Merely a little contribution from your Broadway friends," Wallingford
explained with a chuckle. "Harvey, what do I owe out of this?"

"Well," said Harvey, sitting down again and naming over the cast of
characters on his fingers, "there's seven dollars for the room, and
the tenner I gave Sawyer to go down on Park Row and hunt up a coke
jag. Sawyer gets fifty. We ought to slip a twenty to the wagon-man.
Sawyer will have to pay about a ten-case note for broken furniture,
and I suppose you'll want to pay this poor coke dip's fine. That's
all, except me."

"Ninety-seven dollars, besides the fine," said Wallingford, counting
it up. "Suppose we say a hundred and fifty to cover all expenses, and
about three hundred and fifty for you. How would that do?"

"Fine!" agreed Harvey. "Stay right here and keep me busy at the
price."

"Not me," said Wallingford warmly. "I only did this because I was
peevish. I don't like this kind of money. It may not be honest money.
I don't know how Phelps and Banting and Teller got this money."

Blackie Daw came solemnly over and shook hands with him.

"Stay amongst our midst, J. Rufus," he pleaded. "We need an infusion
of live ones on Broadway. Our best workers have grown jaded and
effete, and our reputation is suffering. Stay, oh, stay!"

"No," refused J. Rufus positively. "I don't want to have anything more
to do with crooks!"

CHAPTER IX

IN WHICH J. RUFUS HEARS OF SOME EGYPTIANS
WORTH SPOILING

It was in a spirit of considerable loneliness that Wallingford came
back from seeing Blackie Daw to the midnight train, for he had grown
to like Blackie very well indeed. Moreover, his friend from Georgia
was gone, and quite disconsolate, for him, he stood in front of the
hotel wondering about his next move. Fate sent him a cab, from which
popped a miniature edition of the man from Georgia. The new-comer,
who had not waited for the cab door to be opened for him, immediately
offered to bet his driver the price of the fare that the horse
would eat bananas. He was a small, clean, elderly gentleman, of
silvery-white hair