tter.

"Jim, I've got to run up-town for a few minutes about some work," was
the wording of my deception, eased by the thought that it was in his
behalf. I slipped on my hat and coat and started for the door, taking in
at a glance that Jim was smoking hard and squirming uneasily.

CHAPTER III

One thing I liked about Tescheron--he talked business from the start. He
jumped into it at once, so that I had no time to take notice of anything
except that he talked without an accent, was probably French only in
name and that he wore clothes which were superfine. I never saw such a
dresser for a man with iron-gray hair and fifty-five years to contend
against in the youth-preserving business, which I calculated was one of
his pleasures in life, if not his vocation. Nothing I figured on coming
up-town happened except that I found my man. A sixty-year old boy
brought me to the room on the third floor.

I could see that Mr. Tescheron was a whole encyclopedia on manners, but
he gave me the paper-covered digest which retails for ten cents, and
began:

"Hope I reached you just at the close of the funeral."

"What funeral?" I asked.

"Say, see here, Hopkins, I want you to talk fair and square with me--no
nonsense, you understand. You know of the funeral--Mrs. Browning's--and
if you weren't there you know when it was over and when Hosley returned.
I am pretty hot in the collar over this business; all happened right
under my nose; never thought of such a thing happening; but I'm not too
late to stop this infernal impostor, not too late! Of course you don't
know anything about my end of it, Hopkins, and I know that you, too,
have been fooled at your end, for I've looked you up. I have reports
from a dozen business men who say you are perfectly square and that is
why I send for you now that we may work together and make the greatest
headway. Do you know that the scoundrel Hosley has become infatuated
with my daughter?--a pretense for criminal purposes, of course. To-day
he seeks me out to tell me they are engaged! A few hours later I hear he
is crying at the funeral of his wife!"

There was some French in Tescheron after all, for he waved his arms and
danced about like a man whose tongue won't wag fast enough to please
him.

If Jim had dealt with large business concerns as an inspector, instead
of corner grocerymen and small storekeepers, they might have saved him.
The business men whom Tescheron had consulted regarding