JOHN STEELE sat at one of the little round tables in the CafÉ Germania, where a customer may have brown Munich beer in a big stone mug with a white metal lid. The cafÉ was very full, so also were some of the habituÉs; and on a raised platform at the corner were seated the members of a Viennese band, giving forth music in the smoke-beclouded room. Steele was waiting for a friend, and had turned a chair face forward against the little table, that a place might be ready for him when he arrived. With his fountain-pen the young man had just written a cable despatch, in answer to a transatlantic message that lay before him, mutilated somewhat in its English, as is the habit of Italian telegraph offices, but still understandable, which was lucky, for more often than not a telegram in a foreign language comes out second best after an encounter with the system of Italy.

A breezy individual made his way through the smoke and the throng to the vacant chair, tipped it back and sat down in it. “I’m late, as usual, John,” he said, “but that is one of my official prerogatives. So I won’t apologise, but will make it up in beer, now that I am here.”

“There is little use of being United States Consul at Naples if you can’t do as you like, Jimmy. There isn’t any too much money in the office, so one must seek compensation in other directions.”

“Do as I like? That’s exactly what I can’t do. I’ll be hanged if every citizen of the great Republic that blows in on me in Naples doesn’t seem to imagine I’m a sort of man-of-all-work for him. And I’m expected to be polite, and to fetch and carry for all concerned. Truth to tell, Steele, I’m tired of it; I’ve a notion to chuck the whole outfit and go back. Now, to-night, I was kept at my office long after business hours by a persistent man who would not take ‘No’ for an answer—actually thought I was lying to him, and had the cheek to intimate as much.”

“And were you?”

“Certainly I was; but it was not etiquette for him to throw out any hints about my lack of veracity. It was all on your account, and I’d indulge in any amount of fiction to oblige a friend. He wanted your address, and wanted it badly; but I didn’t know that you were anxious to see him, so I prevaricated and told him that if he came in to-morrow morning I’d see if I could get it for him.”

“That’s singular. No one has been looking for me for years past. I thought and hoped I had been forgotten over in the States. What was his name?”

“Here is his card. Colonel Beck, of New York.”

“Colonel Beck! Thunder!”

“Know him? Don’t wish to see him, I take it.”

“No, I don’t, and I’m much obliged to you, Stokes, for holding him off. How long is he going to stay in Naples?”

“Said he was going to stay till he found you.”

“In that case I’ll strike for Calabria or Sicily or somewhere; get among the real brigands and avoid this pirate. He used to be a legal adviser to the Rockervelts and probably is yet. Supposed to be rich through fleecing innocent lambs like myself. The shorn lamb, however, avoids the wolf, so I’m off to-morrow morning.”

“What’s the use of leaving now if your fleece is gone? He can’t hurt you. Did he shear you in days gone past?”

“It’s a long story. What strikes me, however, is the coincidence of old Beck turning up at this moment. There is, in fact, a coincidence within a coincidence. Read that cablegram.”

Steele shoved over to his friend the message he had received that day from New York. The Consul wrinkled his brows over the Italian-English of the despatch, and made out its purport to be as follows:

John Steele, Naples.

Have you block Northern Pacific? If so, send me particulars and full powers to deal. Act at once. Stock booming, but expect a crash shortly. Come over yourself if you can, immediately. The block will make you rich if realised without delay.

Manson.

“Who is Manson?” asked the Consul.

“Philip Manson was my chief on the Manateau Midland Railway before he went east to New York. I succeeded him on the Midland. He and I lost about all we possessed in the Rockervelt panic a few years ago. I was what you would call a ‘quitter’ and came to Europe. Manson was a ‘holdfast’ and so he is still in New York.”

“Then why not go right over and see him, instead of taking that trip to Calabria?”

“Well, to tell the truth, I do feel a yearning for the States, but I think I’ll wait until I hear how this deal turns out. Read my answer to his cablegram,” and the young man handed to his friend the document he had written before the other came in.

Stock in Broadway Safe Deposit vaults. Drawer nine hundred seven. Mailed you ten days ago key and legal papers. Make what you can, and we will share even.

Steele.

“Oh, I was wondering where I had seen the name Man-son before!” cried the Consul. “Were those papers you signed in my office a week or two since the documents referred to?”

“Yes.”

“That’s very strange. You sent them across ten days before you got the request for them.”

“Exactly. Those shares had rested for years in the Safe Deposit Vaults. Manson had never referred to them in his letters to me and I had never referred to them in my letters to him, yet I suddenly made up my mind to throw them on the market.”

“Why, that almost makes a person believe there is something in this thought-wave theory—telepathy, or whatever they call it.”

“I am afraid it has a much more prosaic origin. A fortnight since you told me there had been a tremendous rise in Northern Pacific stock. That set me thinking, and I remembered I had a number of shares hidden away in Drawer 907. The stock was of no use to me, so I thought I might as well discover how badly some other fellow wanted it. Thus I threw the onus of selling on my friend Manson.”

“You must have a good deal of confidence in him to give him a free hand like that. What’s to hinder him from bolting with the money?”

“Nothing at all, except that he won’t do it.”

“I love to meet this charming belief in one’s fellow man these cynical times, but I thought you said you lost money with him. Was he your partner?”

“No. The losing of the money was through no fault of his. He had nothing to do with my speculation. We were merely in the same boat, that’s all. Nipped by the same pair of pinchers.”

“So that was what disgusted you with America. I am disappointed with your story. Wasn’t there a woman concerned at all?”

“No.”

“Where does our friend Colonel Beck come in?”

“Beck comes in owing to the fact that he persuaded me to undertake the speculation by which I lost several hundred thousand. He gave me false information, and I believe he knew it to be false.”

“Any proof?”

“No. Circumstantial evidence, that’s all. I believed him to be my friend, and in fact acted the tenderfoot to perfection. I was even green enough to go to him when the crisis came, believing that a loan of twenty thousand or thereabout would save me, but he refused to let me have the money, although I offered this same stock I am cabling about as security.”

“Perhaps he didn’t have the money, like the man who neglected to buy Chicago.”

“He said his ready money had been swept away by the panic, which I doubt. I have never seen him since, and somehow have no particular desire to meet him now.”

“I appreciate your feeling in the matter. By the way, Steele, there was a very pretty girl with Colonel Beck—a very pretty girl, and charmingly attired. She did not say a word all the time the Colonel was talking, but she looked unutterable things and was deeply interested in our conversation. I thought she was a trifle disappointed when I told the Colonel I didn’t know where you were. I supposed she was the Colonel’s daughter.”

“The chances are,” mused Steele, “that the young lady is Miss Sadie Beck, niece of the old gentleman. She was rather a handsome girl when I knew her.”

“Ah!” drawled the Consul, “then there is no particular reason why she should be anxious regarding your whereabouts?”

“None that I am aware of.”

“I see. Well, are you going back to America after all?”

“I haven’t quite made up my mind what I shall do, Jimmy, except that I shall call at your office in the morning, and there mature my plans, with your assistance.”

“If you call at my office, you are more than likely to run against Colonel Beck. I expect him there bright and early.”

“By Jove! I had forgotten about the Colonel. Still, there is no hurry. I can drop in later, when the Colonel has moved on.”

All arrangements, however, bow to Chance, and Chance now intervened to upset their plans. A burly, florid-faced man with white moustache loomed up before them, and a heavy hand smote Steele on the shoulder with a force that made him wince and bite his lip to restrain a cry of resentment. “Hallo, John, old man!” shouted the stranger, “I am mighty glad to see you. Been searching the town for you; called on that stuck-up Consul of ours, but he pretended he knew nothing about you. I suppose he thought I believed him, but the undersigned wasn’t born yesterday, and I had met talented prevaricators before. Oh by Jingo! this you, Consul? I didn’t notice you at first. Well, I stick to all I said. You told me this evening that you didn’t know where John Steele was, and now I find you sitting here with him. I think, by Jingo! that you owe me an apology.”

“I owe you nothing, Colonel, not even my appointment. Every man who drifts in on me appears to think I am indebted to him for my place. I beg to inform you that it is no part of a Consul’s duty to bestow addresses upon any stranger who happens to ask for them.”

“That’s all right, Mr. Stokes,” replied the Colonel genially, drawing up a chair and seating himself uninvited at their table. “It isn’t the habit of your uncle Ben to get left, and I knew I would find Steele ultimately if he was in town. Say, John, you ought to be in New York nowadays. Things are booming there.”

“I have had enough of booms,” replied the young man without enthusiasm.

“Nonsense! It’s absurd for a capable fellow like you, and a talented man, too, if I may be allowed to say so before your face, to chuck things up the way you’ve done. And that reminds me, John, did you ever sell that block of Northern Pacific stock you had during the panic?”

“I never did.”

“Got it yet, eh? Well, I congratulate you. Now, at the present moment that would form a very nice little nucleus to begin on, and you can count on me to help you till everything’s blue.”

“The stock wasn’t much of a nucleus last time I tendered it to you, Colonel,” said Steele dryly.

The Colonel threw back his head and laughed boisterously.

“Oh, you haven’t forgotten that episode yet? Well, you bolted from Warmington so quickly that I hadn’t any chance of giving you an explanation.”

“No explanation was needed, Colonel Beck. You refused me the money I required, and were quite within your right in doing so.”

“Yes, but why did I refuse you; why? Answer me that, John.”

The Colonel, with great good nature, placed a hand lovingly upon the shoulder of the other.

“Your conundrum is easy enough,” replied the young man nonchalantly. “You didn’t want to let me have the money, that was all.”

“Certainly I didn’t; certainly I didn’t; and you should be very thankful to me that I refused. I knew Wall Street a great deal better than you did, my dear fellow, and that money would just have followed the rest into the pit.”

“I quite believe you.”

“Yes; but you didn’t believe me then; and you left my house in a huff, without ever giving me a chance to make my position clear.”

“If you had been anxious to make it clear, Colonel, there was plenty of time to do it in. That was some years ago, and a letter to Naples costs only five cents.”

“True, true,” cried the Colonel, in the bluff manner of an honest but misunderstood man. “I might have expended the five cents, as you say, if I had known your address, but you had got on your high horse, and had said things which a younger man should have hesitated before applying to his elder. Now, I don’t pretend to be any better than my fellows, and I admit I was offended. Such usage coming from you, John, hurt me, I confess.”

The American Consul, finding himself an unneeded third in what was drifting into a private discussion, pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

“I must bid you good-night, Steele,” he said; “I have another appointment. I shall see you at the office tomorrow, I suppose?”

“Don’t go, Stokes. The Colonel and I have nothing confidential to discuss,” returned his friend, while the Colonel sat silent, as if he thought this was not a true statement of the case. The Consul, however, persisted in his withdrawal, and Colonel Beck heaved a sigh of relief as he watched him disappear.

“Yes, my boy,” continued the Colonel, in a tone of tender regret, “I don’t think you treated your friends very well. I don’t think you should have jumped at the wrong conclusion as quickly as you did. I would willingly have let you have the money if I had not known it was certain to go where the rest of your cash had gone.”

“It is quite possible I was mistaken, Colonel; I always was rather hot-headed, and if in this case I made an error, I now offer apology.”

“It hurt me, it hurt me at the time,” murmured the Colonel in reminiscent tones; “but if only myself were involved, I would never have said a word. I am a man of the world, and am accustomed to the ups and downs of the world. I make no pretence that your silent desertion caused me permanent grief. I resented your impetuous action, but would never have spoken if no one else had been concerned.”

“No one else concerned? I do not understand you. Who else was concerned?”

“Well, to speak frankly, as between man and man, I think you treated my niece Sadie rather badly.”

“You astonish me, Colonel. I never treated any woman badly.”

“I have been all my life a very busy man,” rejoined the Colonel, with more of severity in his tone than had hitherto been the case, “and I frankly admit that much went on in my own household of which I was not cognisant. During the first months of our acquaintance you visited us somewhat frequently.”

“Well, what of it?”

“What of it? This much of it, that I did not know until you had left that the affections of my niece were centred upon you.”

“You are quite mistaken, Colonel.”

“Do you mean to say there was never anything between you two but ordinary friendship?”

“I mean to say nothing of the sort. It is not a question for two men to discuss; but since you have broached the subject, I may tell you what you probably know already, that the last interview I had in your house was with your niece. She received me with great coolness and parted from me without visible regret. To put it quite plainly, Colonel Beck, the niece seemed to share the uncle’s feelings regarding me. Financially, I was broken, and consequently was of no further use either to man or woman.”

The stout Colonel placed the tips of his fingers together over the most corpulent portion of his person, raised his eyes to the ceiling, and drew a deep sigh.

“My hasty young friend, I see exactly what happened. You left me enraged because I refused to lend you money. You said to yourself, ‘This man in a crisis declines to befriend me.’ That was no state of mind in which to visit a young lady proud and sensitive. Something in your manner must have jarred upon her. Girls are of finer texture than we brutal men. Her seeming coldness was merely offended dignity, and you left her presence under a misapprehension, as, indeed, you left mine. She expected your return, but you never came back. It was long before I even suspected that anything was wrong between you two, but I knew that Sadie had received offer after offer of marriage, some of them most advantageous, but all proposals she rejected. The utmost confidence existed between us. She is to me as if she were my own daughter. I expostulated with her one day, and to my surprise she burst into tears and then confessed her preference for you. I must say that for a time I was filled with resentment against you, but this feeling gave way to sorrow at seeing my girl waste her life through misplaced love. I have spoken to you with the utmost frankness. Sadie is dearer to me than everything else in the world.”

For some moments after the Colonel finished his exposition of the case John Steele maintained silence. The Viennese band was playing a lively selection, and he appeared to be listening to the music, but with troubled brow. The place seemed rather unsuited for a confession of love, and the tidings brought no particular joy to the listener. At last the young man spoke.

“Does Miss Beck know—was she aware that you were going to speak to me on this subject?”

“Certainly not. I doubt if she would thank me for my interference, because, as I said before, she is a proud girl. I don’t think she knew you were in Naples until she heard me ask the Consul about you. When I was questioning him, she seemed rather eager to hear his answers, but she said nothing until we were outside.” This coincided with the account given by Stokes of the visit, and Steele became more and more perplexed.

“What did she say when you were outside?” he asked.

“Oh! she wanted to know why I wished to see you, and I told her it was on a matter of business. This didn’t quite satisfy her, so, being pressed, I mentioned that block of Northern Pacific stock which you offered to sell to me once, and said I thought I could dispose of it for you to advantage, if you still possessed it. Sadie knows nothing of Wall Street affairs, so, of course, this explanation seemed quite reasonable. Besides, it is true enough, for I do wish to make a bargain with you about that stock whenever you feel inclined to come down from the clouds and discuss mundane affairs.”

“What do you expect me to do? I don’t mean about the stock, but about Miss Beck.”

“It is not for me to make any suggestions in the premises, my dear fellow. You are a man of honour. You have made a mistake which involves the happiness of an innocent person. I have put the matter before you with a plainness which is, I think, exceptional. The next move must rest with you.”

“Where are you stopping?”

“At the Grand Hotel.”

“Then, with your permission, I shall have the pleasure of calling upon Miss Beck to-morrow afternoon at four o’clock, if that hour is convenient.”

The stout Colonel, with visible emotion, clasped Steele warmly by the hand. “You are a good fellow!” he said. “When you meet my niece, you will let no hint escape you of this conversation?”

“Most assuredly not.”

“I came to see you,” continued the Colonel, “about the Northern Pacific stock, remember that, and, of course, you call on her for old friendship’s sake on learning she is here with me.”

“You may rely upon my tact, Colonel.”

His mission accomplished, the Colonel seemed to hesitate between going or staying, his attitude that of a man wondering whether it is better to leave well alone or to proceed further. Finally he said: “By the way, Steele, in order that we may make our conference the more legitimate, how about that Northern Pacific stock of yours? I am willing to buy it outright, or to sell it for you, just as you choose.”

“I am not quite in a position to sell at the present moment, Colonel.”

“I thought you said that you still held the stock?”

“So I do, but I don’t care to make any move regarding it just now.”

“Delays are dangerous, John.”

“I know they are,” rejoined the younger man shortly, with a finality of tone which showed the elder that nothing was to be gained by continuing the discussion; so the good man rose and bade farewell to his friend with a cordiality that was almost overdone, and left the other to his thoughts, such as they were.

John Steele enjoyed little sleep that night. The ghost of an almost forgotten love haunted him, and the apparition, as is usually the case, was most unwelcome. He had certainly left the girl with brusque abruptness, thoroughly convinced that she was as mercenary as her uncle, ready to throw him over because he had failed financially. At that time he had possessed the eager confidence of extreme youth; now, it occurred to him that he had often been mistaken in his estimates of people. Might not an error have been committed in this case? The manner of Colonel Beck retained its ancient bluff heartiness, and there was certainly a show of reasonableness in his presentation of the case. Time had long since mitigated the sting of the refusal. At the moment of asking he had supposed that the granting of the loan meant salvation. The continuance of the panic, however, convinced him that the money would have melted ineffectually and vanished like the rest. If his estimate of the situation had been so far astray, might not his judgment of both uncle and niece have been equally erroneous? There was but one thing for a man of honour to do, and that was to stand the brunt of his mistake, no matter what the cost. He was not the first to pay, with interest compounded, an early debt.

Next day the problem presented no more alluring aspect than it had done during the troublesome night. As the hour of the interview approached, Steele’s dejection increased. He did not visit the Consul as he had promised. In fact, he had entirely forgotten the appointment made the night before. He walked along the promenade by the sea-wall fronting the fashionable quarter of Naples, with haggard face and bowed head, striving to collect his thoughts, although, so far, those he had succeeded in collecting proved of little comfort to him. However, the hour was set, and, as it approached, he walked resolutely to the Grand Hotel to meet the girl, in a frame of mind almost as greatly perturbed as when he last saw her.

Time had passed lightly over the blonde head of Miss Sadie Beck, who greeted him with subdued sweetness; a touch of melancholy in her voice. As the Consul had very truly said, Miss Beck was an amazingly pretty girl, who dressed with an elegance that suggested Paris.

“Through a chance meeting with your uncle last evening, I learned that you were in Naples, and I asked permission to call.”

“Yes, he told me he had met you,” replied the girl simply. “It gives me great pleasure to see you again, because, if you remember, we parted rather in anger,” and Sadie raised her blue eyes to his, only to sink them again to the carpet with just the slightest possible indication of a little quivering sigh; indeed, the eyes themselves, large and pathetic, gave token of unshed tears.

“Miss Beck—” he began, but she interrupted him in tremulous tones; a crystal drop actually became visible on the long eyelashes.

“In the old days you used to call me Sadie.”

“But the old days are gone forever.”

These words were his last effort against the silken web which he felt entangling him, and he knew himself to be a brute for uttering them. Their effect upon the girl was instantaneous. She sank down by the table, flung her arms upon it, lowering her face upon them in a storm of weeping.

“Oh! not for me! not for me!” she cried between sobs. “You may forget the old days, and I see you have forgotten them. Leave me, then! leave me to my memories! Why, oh why did you seek to see me again?”

That settled it. He placed his hand upon her heaving shoulders and spoke soothingly to her.

Half an hour later Steele came out of the hotel and went direct to the American Consulate.

“Hullo, old man! what’s the matter with you?” cried James Stokes. “You are white as a ghost.”

“I’m all right. Didn’t sleep very well last night. See here, Stokes! I just called to say that I wish you would forget part of the conversation we had yesterday.”

“Easily done! Which part, for instance?”

“What I said with reference to Colonel Beck. I was mistaken about him. He has convinced me of that.”

“Oh! has he? You mean, then, he didn’t refuse you the twenty thousand?”

“He refused it from the best of motives. I was rather a strenuous fool in those days, and thought everything should come my way. If I didn’t see what I wanted, I imagined all I had to do was to ask for it. I left the Colonel in a temper, and I realise now that I did worthy people a great injustice.”

“Some one else was involved, then, as well as the Colonel?”

“Yes. I was engaged to his niece, and, as there is no secret about it, I may as well inform you that the engagement has been renewed to-day.”

The Consul whistled and then checked himself, as if this indication of surprise were not quite appropriate to so serious an announcement.

“Well, John, I congratulate you. She is a very handsome girl.”

“Extremely so,” answered the happy man, as he gloomily and abruptly took his departure.

The frivolous Consul was now at liberty to whistle as long as he liked, and he did so. Then he took to muttering to himself.

“I don’t admire the position of affairs a little bit. My friend John resembles a man who’s just got a life sentence. He was thunderstruck when I mentioned Beck to him last night, and quite evidently didn’t wish me to leave him alone with the Colonel. I distrust the Beck contingent. By St. Jonathan, I’ll try a little ruse with the gallant Colonel, which at least can do no harm.”

The friendly Stokes pondered deeply over the situation, until his meditations were interrupted by the entrance of the Colonel himself. He had come in quest of letters, for the Consulate was post-office-in-ordinary to various tourists from the States.

No letters bearing the name of Beck had arrived, and the inquirer was turning away when Stokes acted with quick heedlessness, which must be the excuse for what followed. In his own defence he used to say afterward that the presence of Colonel Beck so corrupted him with an atmosphere of Wall Street, that he couldn’t speak the truth if he tried.

“Oh, Colonel, one moment. You are an old friend of Steele’s, aren’t you?”

The Colonel turned on his heel.

“Yes. Why?” he asked.

“I’d like to speak with you a moment about him, if you don’t mind. I’m an old friend of his, too, but unfortunately I’m poor, and so, however willing, I can’t be of much assistance to him. Did he speak to you last night about money matters after I left you?”

“No,” said the Colonel, drawing down his brows. “Ah! that’s just like him. I came away to give him the opportunity. I owe you an apology for my attitude when you first came to the Consulate. Of course, I knew Steele’s address, but I thought you might be a creditor of his, and goodness knows the poor fellow has had enough of them.”

“Why, what do you mean? If he owns that Northern Pacific stock, he’s a rich man, richer than you have any idea of, if he sells at once. He can realise millions on that stock at the present moment.”

“Then he hasn’t told you what he did with it?”

The ruddy face of the Colonel seemed to become mottled, and he moistened his lips as he said:

“No. What has he done with it?”

“Well, in spite of all my advice, he sent it over to a friend named Philip Manson in New York. He hasn’t even a scrap of writing to show for it. You know Wall Street, so I need say no more.”

The Colonel apparently knew Wall Street, for he gasped: “The eternal fool!”

“Exactly. Still, Steele’s a good fellow, and we mustn’t let him sink. I thought, perhaps, you wouldn’t mind stumping up a bit to help him out.”

“Hasn’t he any other resources?” asked the Colonel. “Not a cent, so far as I know. All his hopes were centred on that Northern Pacific stock, and now that’s gone.”

“Well, I must say, Mr. Consul, that you have a good deal of cheek to ask me, a complete stranger to you, to spend money on an idiot who doesn’t know enough to take care of a fortune when he has got it.”

John Steele passed another unrefreshing night, but solace came next morning in the shape of an early letter and an important cablegram.

Dear Mr. Steele (the letter began).

How inscrutable is the human heart! Ever since you left America I have yearned to see you, and at last this desire was gratified. You were the idol of my younger days, and were my first love—my first and only love, I may say; and yet I write these words as calmly as if I were inditing an order to my dressmaker. I find what I should have known before, that we cannot light a fire with a heap of ashes. I know you will think me wayward and changeable, especially after my emotion when you spoke of the olden days. But am I to blame that I find myself changed, and fancy I see a change in you also? There can never be anything between us, John, but that pure friendship which becomes more and more of a solace as we grow older. I give you back your promise of to-day. It will be useless to call upon me, for my uncle and I will have left for Rome before you receive this letter. But believe me,

Always your friend and well-wisher,

Sadie Beck.

“Well, by Jove!” cried the astounded man, as he finished the epistle. “The girl is honest, after all, and I have not been able to conceal my real feeling towards her. I am afraid I have kept faith in the letter, but not in the spirit. However, thank God for her decision! Her letter does not betray a broken heart, even if I had conceit enough to think I had caused her suffering.”

It was a jubilant man who called upon the Consul in his office that morning.

“Any thing new this morning, Steele? You seem brighter than I have seen you look for a day or two.”

“Yes, rather important news. It seems to be my fate to come into this office and contradict what I said the day before, so I am at it again. The Becks have left suddenly for Rome, and the young lady jilts me, so that engagement is off.”

“Oh! What is the reason of their change of plan?”

“No reason at all, so far as I can make out. Surely a woman doesn’t need to give a reason for preferring Rome to Naples?”

“No; I suppose not,” murmured the Consul, wondering how much his hint that John was a ruined man had to do with the sudden withdrawal.

“And I’ve had a most important cablegram from Philip Manson,” continued John jubilantly. “He has sold out my Northern Pacific at a price which more than recoups me for all my losses.”

“John, you’re a good deal merrier than you were this time yesterday. I expect the next announcement to be that you are returning to the States, to leave me here lamenting.”

“That’s it exactly. But there’s no law compelling you to stay here when there’s ten thousand patriotic citizens eager to take your place. Manson has been appointed general manager of the Wheat Belt Line, with offices in Chicago, and he offers me my old position of division superintendent, so I’ll be singing that ‘Fare-well to Naples’ which I’ve heard so often since I arrived here. Jimmy, I’m going to be a sane and useful citizen hereafter. No more stock exchange for me. I shall plant my money in gilt-edged mortgages where the interest will be as secure as the eternal hills. Then I’ll settle down to hard work and show old Philip Manson what an industrious person can do on the Wheat Belt Line.”

John Steele arrived in America to learn that it was easier to make good resolutions than to keep them. He settled down in Chicago and found there was little difficulty in placing his money on mortgage at attractive rates of interest. He gave, however, his personal care to the securities offered, trusted no man’s word, and always viewed the spot and made close inquiries before he drew a cheque for investment. He divided his money between city and country, not depending on any one lawyer to do the business for him, but seeking local advice and local watchfulness wherever a mortgage was drawn. His eggs were in many baskets, or hatching nests, with a different legal hen to sit on each. The only gentleman of the law he had heretofore known was Beck, and his opinion of the profession seemed to be tinctured by his dislike of the gallant Colonel. He gave work to many legal experts, but never allowed the left-hand lawyer to know what the right-hand lawyer was doing.

He was shocked to find himself so suspicious of everyone except Philip Manson, but even more perturbed to learn that all his old delight in work was gone. Philip Manson was ambitious to make the Wheat Belt Line the model railway of the West, and in his quiet intense purposeful way was accomplishing that object. To John this ambition seemed trivial and above all futile, when it was possible for some speculator in New York or a combination of speculators to make the road a mere pawn in a gamble; to wreck it if its ruin suited the game, to discharge every employee at a week’s notice. His liking for Manson, his reluctance to disillusionise the one man on earth who was friend and believed in him, held him for more than a year at his task of division superintendent and the work that was growing more and more irksome to him. Then an incident at Slocum Junction gave the necessary impetus which finally shifted him from a career of usefulness into the predatory class. The faithful watch-dog became the ravenous wolf.