elevated road, looking for a station, when the familiar
accents of the Object again saluted him.

When Van Bibber faced him the beggar looked uneasy. He
was not sure whether or not he had approached this particular
gentleman before, but Van Bibber conceived an idea of much
subtlety, and deceived the Object by again putting his hand in
his pocket.

"Nothing to eat for twenty-four hours! Dear me!" drawled
the clubman, sympathetically. "Haven't you any money,
either?"

"Not a cent," groaned the Object, "an' I'm just faint for
food, sir. S' help me. I hate to beg, sir. It isn't the
money I want, it's jest food. I'm starvin', sir."

"Well," said Van Bibber, suddenly, "if it is just
something to eat you want, come in here with me and I'll give
you your breakfast." But the man held back and began to whine
and complain that they wouldn't let the likes of him in such
a fine place.

"Oh, yes, they will," said Van Bibber, glancing at the
bill of fare in front of the place. "It seems to be extremely
cheap. Beefsteak fifteen cents, for instance. Go in, he
added, and there was something in his tone which made the
Object move ungraciously into the eating-house.

It was a very queer place, Van Bibber thought, and the