Rich Man, Poor Man

at Mrs. Tilney's, the last house but one in the block; but though for more than sixteen years Mr. Mapleson had boarded there, none of the landlady's other patrons-or the landla

re was something that belied the vanity of a pompous, confident man. Nor was his briskness so very convincing, once you had closely scanned him, for beneath it all was a secret, furtive nervousness that bordered at times on the panicky. He was, in short, shy-shy to

; soft-footed, faithful, meek, they burrow dustily among the musty, dusty back rooms and libraries of the law. Mere cogs in the machine, their reward is existence, nothing else. Then when the cog is broken, its usefulness at an end, i

louds, a host of stars blazed down like the lights of an anchored argosy; and when he looked up and saw them there the little man's eyes blinked and twinkled back at them. Then a gust of the night's raw wind swooped along the street, and he had bent h

gitated you would have thought him, a little feverish perhaps; and yet, after all, why not? Remember, Christmas comes but once a year; and as the slight figure passed swiftly under a stre

it was a little crafty too. Then his eyes, roaming about him, fled down the dingy hall to where in the dim light of the single gas jet a stair was to be seen, Obviously it led to the kitchen floor below, for there arose from it not only a potent

o ruin? Mary Mangin, don't you

in't I?" an aggrie

was slammed, while from elsewhere below

lilting li

off and o

e dumpling,

laugh, a burst of merriment that

t, which he placed on top of them. Afterward the little man hurriedly unbuttoned his coat, removing from the recesses of its inner pocket a newspaper. This he opened in the

ord printed in full-fac

RS

e bottom the little man peered cautiously past the woodwork. The glance revealed to him Mrs. Tilney's dining-room, its lights lighted, its table set for dinner. In a few minutes now the bell would ring

merriment that danced and rippled in her eyes like the sheen on sunlit silk. At the moment it happened that a young man in evening clothes stood before her, and with her arms uplifted, her slender form close to his, the girl was intently tying his necktie. All her attention was centered on the task as with deft fingers

into a bow, then give it a finishing pat; and as if yet fearful he should be seen, he

id the young

t on his, then their gray depths lighted suddenly. A moment la

d the young man moving out of view, Mr. M

him. He was in Mrs. Tilney's kitchen, a sanctuary tabooed usually to Mrs. Tilney's guests. Across the floor the lady hersel

sh to be the death of me? Enough's happening without your bu

h emerged momentarily out of the

n. "What wit' y'r carryin' ons th' day 't

moment that Mr.

ilney,"

y eyes. Now, having peered at Mr. Mapleson from behind her steel-rimmed spectacles, Mrs. Tilney b

she br

he produced from his pocket the folded newspaper. Silently he point

lph Benedict, Benedict Ames, or Ames Randolph, who, when last heard of in January, 1897, was about to embark from New York City presumably for som

at the paper when Mr. Mapleson took it from her and, t

CONDITIO

SUMMONE

FINA

DS

Mapleson indicated the adjoining dining-room where

as he spoke his voice c

ey caught swift

spered. "My litt

son slowl

and it's as true as the Holy Writ! T