“ROBINSON,” said Guy, after a preliminary cough and a desperate attempt to subdue his increasing excitement, “I understood you a while ago to say that you have just returned from Washington. You went there on some business connected with politics, I suppose?”

“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Jones. “I don’t trouble my head about politics. I have always made my living honestly, and I always intend to do so. I went there to take out a patent on a recent invention of mine.”

“What is it?” inquired Mr. Whitney, with some eagerness. “I am interested in every new invention, for I do a little business in that line myself sometimes. I own the rights for several washing-machines, pumps, and scissor-sharpeners in our county.”

“And this is just what you need to complete your list,” said Mr. Jones. “It is a fine thing, and is bound to make somebody independently rich one of these days. You know, Rufus, that about a year ago I wrote you that my store had been entered by burglars, who broke open my safe and robbed it of six thousand dollars.”

“I recollect the circumstance,” said Guy.

“Well,” continued Mr. Jones, “that convinced me that business men ought to take more precautions to guard their property from the assaults of outlaws, so I set my wits at work, and I finally succeeded in perfecting a burglar-proof lock—an arrangement which is at once simple and convenient, but which can neither be cut with a cold-chisel, blown open with gunpowder, or even unlocked by any one who does not understand its construction. I gave away a good many models while I was in Washington, but I think I have one or two left.”

So saying, Mr. Jones begun to overhaul his pockets, and finally produced a small brass padlock, similar in size and shape to those sometimes used on dog-collars.

“Ah! yes, here is one,” said he, “and I defy any man in the world to open it without breaking it. This model, you will, of course, understand, Mr. Whitney, is intended merely to illustrate the principles of the invention. The locks, when ready for use, will be made of the best of steel and be large and heavy. I have one attached to the safe at my store, and to-morrow you will have an opportunity to see how it looks and operates. I will give it to you on easy terms, and will warrant—by the way, there’s my partner, Mr. Benton. I want to see him on particular business, so I beg that you will excuse me. I will return in one moment.”

As Mr. Jones said this he jumped to his feet, and disappeared through the door, evidently in pursuit of a gentleman who had just gone out. He left his invention on the table, and Whitney picked it up and examined it. The key was tied to it by a piece of ribbon, and this Whitney inserted in the lock, when, behold! it opened like any other common padlock. He was astonished at his success. He closed the lock again, and opened it with all ease. Then he handed it to Guy, and he did the same, and appeared to be as much surprised thereat as was Mr. Whitney.

At this moment, Mr. Jones came back.

“Well, gentlemen,” said he, hurrying to the table and picking up the lock. “I have just made an appointment with my partner, and it is necessary that I should run down to the store for a few minutes. Will you accompany me?”

“No,” replied Guy; “we’ll stay here. I am too tired to run around any more to-night.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Jones, without giving Whitney time to say whether he would go or not. “I’ll return in a quarter of an hour with a carriage, and then we’ll go round to the hotel after your luggage. In the meantime, enjoy yourselves to the best of your ability. I will leave my invention with you, and you can examine it at your leisure.”

“We have already inspected it to our satisfaction,” replied Whitney with a smile. “I couldn’t make a fortune by selling an arrangement like that. We opened it very easily.”

“You did!” exclaimed Mr. Jones.

“Certainly,” said Guy. “If I were a burglar, and wanted to get into your safe, that lock would not keep me out.”

Mr. Jones looked from one to the other of his companions, and then dropped into a chair, apparently overwhelmed with amazement.

“Is it possible that I have made a failure after all?” said he. “If the secret mechanism of the invention can be so easily discovered, how does it come that the officials in Washington did not see through it at once? Gentlemen, you are either dreaming or joking.”

“No, we are awake and in sober earnest,” said Guy. “We certainly did open that lock, and to convince you of the fact, we’ll do it again. Hand it out here.”

Again Mr. Jones was silent.

“I may have made a mistake,” said he, after gazing thoughtfully at the floor for a few moments, “but I can hardly believe it.”

“Give me the lock,” repeated Guy, “and I will bet you any sum you please that I will open it at the first trial.”

“Oh, I never bet,” said Jones, quickly rising to his feet and buttoning up his coat. “I regard the taking of money gained in that way as but little better than highway robbery.”

“You can’t have much faith in your invention,” said Whitney.

“Yes, I have unbounded faith in it.”

“I left the most of my money at the hotel in charge of the clerk, but here’s a small amount which says that I did open that lock, and that I can do it again,” said Guy, drawing from his pocket a twenty-dollar bill, which his friend and partner had furnished him for this very purpose.

Jones drummed with his foot on the floor, puffed out his cheeks, and scratched his head like a man in deep perplexity. He looked first at Whitney, then at Guy, then down at the money that had been placed on the table, and finally dropped into his chair again.

“I believe I’ll take a hand in this,” said Whitney. “I don’t often do things of this kind, in fact never, unless I see a chance to make something, but I’ll stake twenty-five dollars on it just for luck.”

Mr. Jones again arose to his feet and nervously rubbed his chin as if he were completely bewildered by this turn of events, all the while watching the movements of Whitney, who produced his pocket-book and counted out the sum he had named.

“Gentlemen,” said the commercial traveler, “when I see persons willing to wager such large sums of money as those you have laid upon the table, I always know they are betting on a sure thing.”

This remark had just the effect that Mr. Jones intended it should have. It led Whitney to believe that in spite of all he had said, the patentee had suddenly lost faith in his invention.

After a moment’s hesitation he brought out his pocket-book again and counted down twenty-five dollars more, which he also placed upon the table.

“Now, Robinson, what are you going to do about it?” asked Guy.

“Why, when I am among gentlemen I do as gentlemen do, of course,” replied Mr. Jones. “But to tell the truth, the confident manner in which you act and speak convinces me that I have made a grand mistake.”

Having said this Mr. Jones paused in the hope that Whitney would take courage and go down into his pocket-book after more money. And in fact this little piece of strategy came very near being successful, for Whitney put his hand into his pocket, but after thinking a moment he pulled it out empty.

“I know I have made a mistake,” said Mr. Jones.

Here another long pause was made, but as Whitney showed no disposition to increase his wager, Mr. Jones continued:

“But it is too late to remedy the matter now, and the invention must stand or fall according to its merits.”

Mr. Jones counted out seventy dollars with which he covered Guy’s bet and Whitney’s, after which the money was raked into a pile and placed under a hat, to hide it from the view of the other people in the garden. Mr. Jones then put his hand into his pocket and produced his patent lock—not the one he had exhibited before, but another that was not to be opened. In shape and size it was so exactly like the first that had they been seen together no difference could have been detected between them.

“Now,” he said, “if I have made a failure, I am willing to give seventy dollars to be convinced of the fact.” And as he pushed the lock across the table toward Whitney, his hand trembled so naturally that the dupe really believed that this accomplished sharper had made the first bet of his life, and that it had excited him.

Whitney took the lock with a confident smile and inserted the key into it, expecting of course to open it as he had opened the other; but his smile suddenly gave way to a look of astonishment and alarm, and his face lengthened out wonderfully when he found that the key would not turn. He tried it over and over again, shook the lock, and even pounded it on the table, but it was all in vain. Then he handed it to Guy, and he met with no better success.

“What do you suppose can be the matter with it?” asked the latter, after he had made several attempts to open the lock.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Whitney. “Let me try again.”

“We opened it without the least trouble before,” continued Guy.

“Oh, you are certainly mistaken, Rufus,” said Mr. Jones blandly.

“No, he isn’t!” exclaimed the dupe. “I am not blind, and I know that we both opened this lock not ten minutes since. But we can’t do it now,” he added, handing the invention back to its owner, who put it back into his pocket and took charge of the money.

“This is the first I ever made by betting,” said he. “Now I must be off to fulfill my engagement with my partner. I’ll return very shortly, and then we will go home.”

So saying Mr. Jones disappeared, leaving Guy and Whitney to talk the matter over at their leisure.

“What an idiot I was to risk my money on that thing,” said the latter regretfully. “I ought to have known that a man who has spent a whole year in perfecting an invention is better acquainted with it than a stranger. I am nearly strapped. I haven’t money enough to pay my fare to Chicago, and I don’t know a soul this side of there.”

“Don’t let it trouble you,” said Guy soothingly. “Robinson will return that money in the morning, and then he will read us a long lecture on betting.”

“Do you really think he will give it back?” asked Whitney, in a more hopeful tone.

“I am sure of it. He does not intend to keep it, for he was brought up in New England, and according to his idea, betting is no better than gambling. Some more cigars, waiter. I’ve got a quarter left.”

The cigars were brought, and Guy, receiving the matches from the hand of the waiter, deposited them in a little pool of beer upon the table, so that when he wanted to light their cigars the matches would not burn. Guy grumbled at this, and said he would go to the bar for a light. He went; and Whitney, who was deeply occupied with his own thoughts, bemoaning his folly for risking his money on that patent invention, and wondering if Robinson would be generous enough to return it in the morning, did not see him when, after lighting his cigar, he slipped through the door into the street.

Guy’s first attempt at swindling had met with success, but it did not bring with it those feelings of happiness and independence which he had so confidently looked for. There was not a criminal in St. Louis who felt so utterly disgraced as he did at that moment. The reaction had come after his hour of excitement, and his spirits were sadly depressed. He looked upon it now as a most contemptible proceeding to wheedle one’s way into a stranger’s good graces, and then seize the first opportunity to do him an injury. Accompanying this reflection was the thought—and his mind would dwell upon it, in spite of all he could do to prevent it—that he had rendered himself liable to legal punishment, and that he was every moment in danger of being arrested and thrust into jail. Had Whitney’s money been in his pocket just then, he would have lost not a moment in returning it to its rightful owner; but it was safely stowed away about the good clothes of his friend and partner, Mr. Jones, who was seated in a certain bowling alley, which had been designated beforehand as the place of meeting, solacing himself with a cigar, and anxiously awaiting Guy’s appearance.

When the latter came in, Mr. Jones beckoned with his finger, and Guy followed him to the furthest corner of the saloon.

“Well,” said the commercial traveler, “how do you like it as far as you have gone? Twenty-five dollars for an hour’s work I call pretty fair wages. If you make that amount every night, it will not take you long to pay your debts.”

“I don’t like the business at all,” said Guy, “and I will never attempt it again.”

Mr. Jones settled back in his chair, looked up at the ceiling through the clouds of smoke that arose from the cigar, and said to himself:

“I don’t know that it makes any difference to me whether you do or not. If you don’t pay your debts in this way, you must use some of the firm’s money. When you do that your days as shipping clerk are numbered, and my brother will step into the position.”

Then aloud he asked:

“How did you get away from him?”

“I did just as you told me,” replied Guy, rather impatiently, for it was a matter that he did not like to talk about. “I dampened the matches, went to the bar for a light, and stepped out when he wasn’t looking.”

“He didn’t bleed as freely as I hoped he would,” continued Mr. Jones; “but, after all, we did very well. Here’s your share of the spoils—twenty-five dollars.”

It was on the point of Guy’s tongue to refuse to accept it; but he thought of Dutch Jake, who was probably at that very moment stamping about his little groggery like a madman, because his eight dollars and forty cents had not been paid according to promise, and knowing that the man must at all hazards be prevented from making another visit to the store, he took the money and put it into his pocket.

“Now I must run down and say good-by to my brother,” said Mr. Jones, “and by that time the ’bus will be along to take me across the river. When I return I hope to find you on your feet, and with money in your pocket. Take care of yourself.”

Mr. Jones hurried out, and in a few moments more was standing in the presence of his brother, and recounting in glowing language the success of his plans.

Will was in ecstasies.

“I will put the finishing touch to them,” said he. “I will find Whitney, tell him that he has been swindled, and put him up to have Guy arrested.”

“That would be a cunning trick, wouldn’t it?” said Mr. Jones.

“Why, it will bring the matter to the notice of Mr. Walker,” said Will, “and that’s just what I want.”

“Well, it is just what I don’t want,” said Mr. Jones. “If Guy is arrested, I lose my situation, for of course he will blow on me. You let him alone. I’ve given him plenty of rope, and if he doesn’t succeed in hanging himself by the time I get back, I can easily do it for him.”

The commercial traveler hurried out to catch the omnibus, and Will tumbled into bed to dream of Guy’s disgrace, and his immediate accession to the office of shipping clerk.