order. Of course he was innocent. But he had to quit all the
same."

"Ha! Ha!" Renouard laughed again abruptly, staring as before. "So
there's one more big F in the tale."

"What do you mean?" inquired the Editor quickly, with an air as if
his patent were being infringed.

"I mean--Fool."

"No. I wouldn't say that. I wouldn't say that."

"Well--let him be a scoundrel then. What the devil do I care."

"But hold on! You haven't heard the end of the story."

Renouard, his hat on his head already, sat down with the disdainful
smile of a man who had discounted the moral of the story. Still he
sat down and the Editor swung his revolving chair right round. He
was full of unction.

"Imprudent, I should say. In many ways money is as dangerous to
handle as gunpowder. You can't be too careful either as to who you
are working with. Anyhow there was a mighty flashy burst up, a
sensation, and--his familiar haunts knew him no more. But before
he vanished he went to see Miss Moorsom. That very fact argues for
his innocence--don't it? What was said between them no man knows--
unless the professor had the confidence from his daughter. There
couldn't have been much to say. There was nothing for it but to