knock like a man?"

"Here's your damn bouquet, also your envelope," said Stuart, "You
probably don't recall that you left them with me about two this morning.
I _do_."

"I'm mighty much obliged, old man," Harleston responded. "You did me a
great service by taking them--I'll tell you about it later."

"Hump!" grunted Stuart. "I hope you'll come around to tell me at a more
seasonable hour. So long!"

Harleston closed the door, and was half-way across the living-room when
there came another knock.

Tossing the envelope and the faded roses on a nearby table, he stepped
back and swung open the door.

Instantly, a revolver was shoved into his face, and Crenshaw sprang into
the hall and closed the door.

"I thought as much!" he exclaimed. "I'll take that envelope, my friend,
and be quick about it."

"What envelope?" Harleston inquired pleasantly, never seeming to notice
the menacing automatic.

"Come, no trifling!" Crenshaw snapped. "The envelope that the man from
the apartment across the corridor just handed you."