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Mr. Grasty had evidently worked his rabbit’s foot successfully, although he was quite a while in doing so.

Just as the preacher was about to pronounce the fatal words on which he would have realized ten dollars and had the laugh on Mr. Grasty, the steeple of the church fell off and Bertram D. Snooper entered.

The preacher fell to the ground with a dull thud. He could ill afford to lose ten dollars. He was hastily removed and a cheaper one secured.

Bertram D. Snooper held a Statesman in his hand.

“Aha!” he said, “I thought I would surprise you. I just got in this morning. Here is a paper noticing my arrival.”

He handed it to Henry R. Grasty.

Mr. Grasty looked at the paper and turned deadly pale. It was dated three weeks after Mr. Snooper’s arrival.

“Foiled again!” he hissed.

“Speak, Bertram D. Snooper,” said Gladys, “why have you come between me and Henry?”

“I have just discovered that I am the sole heir to Tom Bean’s estate and am worth two million dollars.”

With a glad cry Gladys threw herself in Bertram’s arms.

Henry R. Grasty drew from his breast pocket a large tin box and opened it, took therefrom 467 pages of closely written foolscap.

“What you say is true, Mr. Snooper, but I ask you to read that,” he said, handing it to Bertram Snooper.

Mr. Snooper had no sooner read the document than he uttered a piercing shriek and bit off a large chew of tobacco.

“All is lost,” he said.

“What is that document?” asked Gladys. “Governor Hogg’s message?”

“It is not as bad as that,” said Bertram, “but it deprives me of my entire fortune. But I care not for that, Gladys, since I have won you.”

“What is it? Speak, I implore you,” said Gladys.

“Those papers,” said Henry R. Grasty, “are the proofs of my appointment as administrator of the Tom Bean estate.”

With a loving cry Gladys threw herself in Henry R. Grasty’s arms.

* * * *

Twenty minutes later Bertram D. Snooper was seen
deliberately to enter a beer saloon on Seventeenth Street.