"But you, my dear Mr. Comstalk!" he cried, turning his shining eyes
upon me, while his fingers deftly replaced the gems in the bag.
"I have no jewelry," I replied, tossing aside the cigarette.
"But you have something infinitely better. I am rather observant. In
Friard's curio-shop you carelessly exhibited a wallet that was simply
choking to death with long yellow-boys. You have it still. Will you
do me the honor?"--stretching out his slim white hand.
I looked at William; he nodded. There wasn't the slightest chance for
me to argue. So I drew out my wallet. I extracted the gold-bills and
made a neat little packet of them. It hurt, hurt like the deuce, to
part with them. But--!
"Game, William, isn't he? Most men would have flung the wallet at my
head."
"Oh, he is game, sir; never you doubt it, sir," said the amiable
William.
"I have some silver in change," I suggested with some bitterness.
"Far be it that I should touch silver," he said generously, did this
rogue. "Besides, you will need something to pay for this little supper
and the fare back to New York." My bills disappeared into his pocket.
"You will observe that I trust you implicitly. I haven't even counted
the money."
William sniggered.
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