himself and instructed a waiter to bring his coffee. Jim continued
to eye him with poorly concealed amusement, until Pope led him
into conversation, whereupon the youth began to take in the fact
that his guest's intelligence and appearance were entirely out of
harmony. Wisely, Jim sheltered himself behind an assumption of
pleasantry he was far from feeling. He also watched the nearest
entrance with some anxiety, for the reviewer's presence did not
fit well with his plans. As he finished ordering he heard Pope
say:

"I was sorry the story got out, Miss Knight; but it was pretty
well smothered in this evening's papers. Of course, you were
dragged in by the hair to afford a Roman spectacle: we all saw
what it meant when it came to us."

"What did it mean?" queried Jim, with brotherly interest.

"Blackmail. The word was written all over it. Melcher's connection
with the affair was proof of that; then--the way it was handled!
Nobody touched it except the Despatch, and, of course, it got its
price."

"I thought newspapers paid for copy," innocently commented Jim.

"Yes, real newspapers; but the gang had to publish the stuff
somewhere. It is reported that Hammon paid fifty thousand dollars
to prevent Melcher from filing suit. I dare say things will be
quiet around Tony the Barber's now."

"You press people certainly have got a lot up your sleeves."