him."

"Mr. Corbin," said Colonel Starbottle, with a pained but unmistakable
hauteur and a singular elevation of his shirt frill, as if it had become
of its own accord erectile, "Mr. Corbin--er--er--is the distant relative
of old Major Corbin, of Nashville--er--one of my oldest political
friends. When Mr. Corbin--er--returns, you can conduct him to me. And,
if you please, replenish the glasses."

When the bar-keeper respectfully showed Mr. Corbin and "Wood's Digest"
into the room again, the Colonel was still beaming and apologetic.

"A thousand thanks, sir, but except to SHOW you the law if you require
it--hardly necessary. I have--er--glanced over the woman's letters
again; it would be better, perhaps, if you had kept copies of your
own--but still these tell the whole story and YOUR OWN. The claim
is preposterous! You have simply to drop the whole thing. Stop your
remittances, stop your correspondence,--pay no heed to any further
letters and wait results. You need fear nothing further, sir; I stake my
professional reputation on it."

The gloom of the stranger seemed only to increase as the Colonel reached
his triumphant conclusion.

"I reckoned you'd say that," he said slowly, "but it won't do. I shall
go on paying as far as I can. It's my trouble and I'll see it through."

"But, my dear sir, consider," gasped the Colonel. "You are in the hands
of an infamous harpy, who is using her son's blood to extract money
from you. You have already paid a dozen times more than the life of