valuation of th' professor's fleas. I was thinkin' mebby one dollar was
not enough t' pay for a flea, not crude, so I asks O'Halloran. ''T will
be easy t' settle that,' says O'Halloran, 'for th' value of thim will be
set down in th' books of th' United States, at th' time whin th'
professor paid th' duty on thim. I'll just look an' see how much th'
duty was paid on,' says he. 'But mebby th' professor paid no duty on
thim,' I says. 'Make no doubt of that,' says O'Halloran, 'for unless th'
professor was a fool he would pay th' duty like a man, for th' penalty
is fine an' imprisonmint,' says O'Halloran, 'an' I make no doubt he paid
it. I will be out Sunday at four,' says O'Halloran, 'an' give ye th'
facts, an' I hope th' duty is paid as it should be, for if 't is not
paid 't will be me duty t' arrest th' professor an'--'"

Flannery stopped and listened.

"Is that th' train from th' city I hear?" he said. "O'Halloran will sure
be on it."

The professor arose, and so did the two friends who had come with him to
help him carry home the one hundred dollars. The professor slapped
himself on the pockets, looked in his hat, and slapped himself on the
pockets again.

"_Mon Dieu!_" he exclaimed, and in an instant he and his friends were
in an excited conversation that went at the rate of three hundred words
a minute. Then the professor turned to Flannery.

"I return," he said. "I have lost the most valued thing, the picture of
the dear mamma. It is lost! It is picked of the pocket! Villains! I go
to the police. I return."