explosive and above it a glass bulb containing sulphuric acid. The
bulb, we will assume, is so safe-guarded as to resist any ordinary
shock of moving. But when this gentleman, sitting at ease in his
chair, is noticed by a trombonist, placed for that purpose In the
street, below--"

"The Dutch horn-player!" cried the politician. "Then it was him;
and I'll--"

"Only an innocent tool," interrupted Average Jones, in his turn.
"He had no comprehension of what he was doing. He didn't understand
that the vibration from his trombone on one particular note by the
slide up the scale--as in the chorus of Egypt--would shiver that
glass and set off the charge. All that he knew was to play the
B-flat trombone and take his pay."

"His pay?" The question leaped to the politician's lips. "Who paid
him?"

"A man--named--er--Arbuthnot," drawled Average Jones.

Linder's eyes did not drop, but a film seemed to be drawn over
them.

"You once knew--er--a Mrs. Arbuthnot?"

The thick shoulders quivered a little.

"Her husband--her widower--is in Brooklyn. Shall I push the
argument any further to convince you that you'd better drop out of