"Why, this," answers the old fellow, cheerfully. "There's money to
be made by doing no such thing. And I don't carry it all about with
me. So, as 'tis late, we'd best talk business at once."

They moved away toward the seat under the sycamore, and now their
words reached me no longer--only the low murmur of their voices or
(to be correct) of the elder man's: for the other only spoke now and
then, to put a question, as it seemed. Presently I heard an oath
rapped out and saw the bully start up. "Hush, man!" cried the other,
and "hark-ye now--"; so he sat down again. Their very forms were
lost within the shadow. I, myself, was cold enough by this time and
had a cramp in one leg--but lay still, nevertheless. And after
awhile they stood up together, and came pacing across the bowling-
green, side by side, the older man trailing his foot painfully to
keep step. You may be sure I strain'd my ears.

"--besides the pay," the stranger was saying, "there's all you can
win of this young fool, Anthony, and all you find on the pair, which
I'll wager--"

They passed out of hearing, but turned soon, and came back again.
The big man was speaking this time.

"I'll be shot if I know what game _you're_ playing in this."

The elder chuckled softly. "I'll be shot if I mean you to," said he.

And this was the last I heard. For now there came a clattering at
the door behind me, and Mr. Robert Drury reeled in, hiccuping a