. He had got loose, somehow, in his rifled car, got a gun from
a drawer, and opened fire. He was shot through the shoulder. A brave
fellow, that. The company should do something for him. Two others of
the train crew were hit.

Clyde awaited the return of the man across the aisle. The train began
to move, gathered way, and thundered on. Still he did not return. The
porter began to make up the berths. To him she applied for information.
He knew nothing. The conductor was in equal ignorance. Inquiries
throughout the train were fruitless. The man of the seat across the
aisle was not forthcoming. His few belongings, which threw no light on
his identity, were gathered up to await his appearance. It was
suggested, to Clyde's indignation, that he was an accomplice of the
robbers, but in what manner was not clear.

And so Clyde Burnaby went on to the coast with ten dollars which she
did not in the least need. She neither saw nor heard more of their
owner; but, though it was unlikely she should meet him again, she kept
the identical bill. On her return she tucked it away in a drawer in her
writing desk; and when occasionally she noticed it there it was merely
to wonder, with some self-reproach, how its owner had fared until the
next pay day.

CHAPTER II

In a secluded corner of a certain club billiard room two middle-aged
gentlemen padded around and around a table, and poked at balls. Both
appeared bored by the amusement. Their skill was little, and their luck
was rather less, so that a ball rarely found a pocket. Between strokes
they carried on a conversation having to do with such light and
frivolous topics as bond issues, guarantees thereof, sinking funds,
haulage rates, and legal decisions and pending legislation affecting
transportation. Or it might be more accurate to say that one
endeavoured to engage the other in conversation on these esoteric
matters, at which the other repeatedly shied, evincing a preference for
those of more general human interest.

Not that he was uninformed on these topics. Quite the reverse. He was a
rotund, florid little man, with twinkling, humorous eyes, which could
bore like augers on occasion, and a mouth as firm and close as a steel
trap. His name was William Bates Rapp, and his specialty was
corporation law. He was counsel for the Western Airline Railway, and
just then he was pretending to play billiards with its president,
Cromwell York.

York, who also was pretending to play