e whispered.

"You don't have to--I got Hannah's snoops for you. They're innocent
enough--really, they're the soundest of sound little nuts.

"Mrs. Tweksbury had a romance! Don't grin, Joan. She didn't always look
like a squaw in front of a tobacco shop--they say she was rather a
stunner. She married Tweksbury before she got the bit in her
mouth--afterward she clutched it good and proper and trotted the course
according to the rules.

"Then came Raymond--this man's father. He somehow got it over to Mrs.
Tweksbury--the real thing, you know, and she reached and got it over to
_him_, that it was up to them to--keep it clean. Gee! Joan, her past
sounds like a tract with all the sobs left out and a lot of iron put in.

"Raymond, in a year or two, married a woman who lived only long enough
to produce this man upon whose trail we're scouting. This Kenneth was a
measly little offspring and his mother's people undertook to give him a
chance to live. He picked up and he and his father became pals--Hannah
rooted out a picture of them riding horseback. Then the father was
thrown from his horse and killed right before the eyes of the boy, and
that put him back years--he barely escaped. I don't believe he would
have, from accounts, if Mrs. Tweksbury hadn't butted in at that point
and made it a matter of honour to the boy to--to--carry on!

"Well, once he mounted _that_ horse he rode it as he did all
others--hard and grim. He never played in all his life. He's been making
good. Society he loathes; women do not exist for him, outside of Mrs.
Tweksbury. I bet he knows _her_ past and is paying back for his
dad--he's like that.

"Well, when I'd got everything Hannah had in her safe I had a burning
desire to have a look at Mr. Kenneth Raymond myself. So this afternoon I
went to his office----"

"Pat!" cried Joan. "Oh! Pat, how could you?"

"Easiest thing in the world, my lamb. You see, the chance of viewing a
human being--with one fortune in his pocket and another coming to him
when Mrs. Tweksbury lets go--actually on a job holding it down like
grim death--was a sight to gladden the heart of a tramp like me. I
sallied down to Wall Street and had some fun.

"I found his building without a moment's delay and I casually asked the
elevator boy where Mr. Raymond's office was, and the little chap grew
effusive--either Mr. Raymond is lavish with tips, or the human touch,
for his goings and comings are meat to that kid.

"He told me I