scheme, and had picked me by chance as being the right party. Well, if
the pay was good, and the purpose not criminal, I had no objections to
the spice of danger. Indeed, that was what I loved in life, my heart
throbbing eagerly in anticipation. I was young, full-blooded, strong,
willing enough to take desperate chances for sufficient reward. There
was a suspicion in my mind that all was not straight--Neale's
questions, and the private signals to be given at a side door left that
impression--yet I could only wait and learn, and besides, my conscience
was not overly delicate. I had lived among a rough, reckless set, had
experienced enough of the seamy side of life to be somewhat careless.
I would take the chance, at least, in hope of escape from this routine.

All the rest of the day, for this meeting had occurred early in the
afternoon, I labored quietly, loading and unloading lumber, my muscles
aching from a species of toil to which I had not yet become accustomed,
my mind active in imagination over the possibilities of this new
employment. I was not obliged to live this sort of life, but the
uneasy spirit of adventure held me. My father, from whom I had not
heard a word in two years, was a prominent manufacturer in a New
England village. The early death of my mother had left me to his care
when I was but ten years old, and we failed to understand each other,
drifting apart, until a final quarrel had sent me adrift. No doubt
this was more my fault than his, although he was so deeply immersed in
business that he failed utterly to understand the restless soul of a
boy. I was in my junior year at Princeton, when the final break came,
over an innocent youthful escapade, and, in my pride, I never even
returned home to explain, but disappeared, drifting inevitably into the
underworld, because of lack of training for anything better. This all
occurred four years previous, three of which had been passed in the
ranks, yet even now I was stubbornly resolved not to return