"No." Mellin moistened his parched lips and made a pitiful effort to
smile. "I'll be all right very soon."

"I am very sorry," began the journalist, "that I wasn't able to get a
few words with Mr. Cooley yesterday evening. Perhaps you noticed that I
tried as hard as I could, without using actual force"--he laughed--"to
detain him."

"You did your best," agreed Cooley ruefully, "and I did my worst. Nobody
ever listens till the next day!"

"Well, I'm glad no vital damage was done, anyway," said Cornish. "It
would have been pretty hard lines if you two young fellows had been
poor men, but as it is you're probably none the worse for a lesson like
this."

"You seem to think seven thousand dollars is a joke," remarked Cooley.

Cornish laughed again. "You see, it flatters me to think my time was
so valuable that a ten minutes' talk with me would have saved so much
money."

"I doubt it," said Cooley. "Ten to one we'd neither of us have believed
you--last night!"

"I doubt it, too." Cornish turned to Mellin. "I hear that you, Mr.
Mellin, are still of the opinion that you were dealing with straight
people?"

Mellin managed to whisper "Yes."