The plain-clothes man approached loitering. He might have been a citizen
in good standing and with nothing better to do than hobnob with whatever
persons interested him upon his idle saunterings.

"How many pairs of laces have you sold this morning?" he asked.

"Nary a pair, charitable sir," returned the beggar.

"Speaking of shoe-laces," said the plain-clothes man, "what is your
opinion of head-gear?"

"Bullish," said the beggar. "Straw hats will be worn next winter."

The eyes of both men sparkled with a curious exhilaration. The
plain-clothes man drew a deep and sudden breath, and appeared to shiver.
So a soldier may breathe at the command to charge; so a thoroughbred
shivers when the barrier is about to fall.

"There will be nice pickings," said the beggar; "there will be enough
geese to feed ten thousand."

The plain-clothes man dropped a penny into the tin cup. "By the way,"
he asked professionally, "where can I lay hands on Red Monday?"

The beggar shook his strong head curtly. "Hands off," he said.

"When did _he_ join the church?"

"Last night, with tears and confession. A strong man Red, now that he
has seen the light."