it's not in your class."

"We haven't reached the end of the matter, my adroit friend," gritted
Crenshaw. "My turn will come, never fear."

"A far day, monsieur, a far day!" said Harleston lightly. "Meanwhile,
with your permission, we will have a look at the contents of your
pockets. First, your pocketbook."

He unbuttoned the other's coat, put in his hand, and drew out the book.

"Attend, please," said he, "so you can see that I replace every
article."

Crenshaw's only answer was a contemptuous shrug.

A goodly wad of yellow backs of large denominations, and some visiting
cards, no two of which bore the same name, were the contents of the
pocketbook.

"You must have had some difficulty in keeping track of yourself,"
Harleston remarked, as he made a note of the names.

Then he returned the bills and the cards to the book, and put it back in
Crenshaw's pocket.

"It's unwise to carry so much money about you," he remarked; "it induces
spending, as well as provokes attack."

"What's that to you?" replied Crenshaw angrily.