roll-top, where the noon mail is sorted and stacked in the wire baskets.

I don't hear anything more from him for two or three minutes, when he
signals me over and pulls up a chair.

"Ah--er--about Ham Adams, now," he begins.

"Say, Mr. Robert," says I, "you ain't never goin' to wish him onto me,
are you? Why, him and me wouldn't get along a little bit."

"I must concede," says he, "that Mr. Adams has not a winning
personality. Yet there are redeeming features. He plays an excellent
game of billiards, his taste in the matter of vintage wines is
unerring, and in at least two rather vital scrimmages which I had with
the regatta committee he was on my side. And, while I feel that I have
more than repaid any balance due-- Well, I can't utterly ignore him
now. But as for hunting him up this afternoon--" Mr. Robert nods at
the stacks of letters.

"Oh, all right," says I. "What's his number?"

Mr. Robert writes it on a card.

"You may as well understand my position," says he. "I have already
invested some twenty-five hundred dollars in Mr. Adams' uncertain
prospects. I must stop somewhere. Of course, if he's ill or in
desperate straits-- Well, here is another hundred which you may offer
or not, as you find best. I am relying, you see, on your somewhat
remarkable facility for rescuing truth from the bottom of the well or
any other foolish hiding-place."