good-humor. His eyes may have shown his sympathy, for, in sudden
confidence, Ashton leaned nearer.

"It's like this," he said. "Several years ago I made a bad break and,
about a year later, they got on to me and I had to cut and run. In a
month the law of limitation lets me loose and I can go back. And you can
bet I'm GOING back. I will be on the bowsprit of the first boat. I've
had all I want of the 'fugitive-from-justice' game, thank you, and I
have taken good care to keep a clean bill of health so that I won't
have to play it again. They've been trying to get me for several
years--especially the Pinkertons. They have chased me all over Europe.
Chased me with all kinds of men; sometimes with women; they've tried
everything except blood-hounds. At first I thought YOU were a 'Pink,'
that's why--"

"I!" interrupted Ford, exploding derisively. "That's GOOD! That's one
on YOU." He ceased laughing and regarded Ashton kindly. "How do you know
I'm not?" he asked.

For an instant the face of the bookmaker grew a shade less red and
his eyes searched those of Ford in a quick agony of suspicion. Ford
continued to smile steadily at him, and Ashton breathed with relief.

"I'll take a chance with you," he said, "and if you are as bad a
detective as you are a sport I needn't worry."

They both laughed, and, with sudden mutual liking, each raised his glass
and nodded.

"But they haven't got me yet," continued Ashton, "and unless they get