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Allen, for the first time, lowered the box upon the table and drew from it a bundle of notes bound together with elastic bandages. Holcombe’s eyes lighted as brightly at the sight as though the notes were for his own private pleasures in the future.

“Be quick!” he said. “I cannot be responsible for the men outside.”

Allen bent over the money, his face drawing into closer and sharper lines as the amount grew, under his fingers, to the sum Holcombe had demanded.

“Sixty thousand!” he said, in a voice of desperate calm.

“Good!” whispered Holcombe. “Pass it over to me. I hope I have taken the most of what you have,” he said, as he shoved the notes into his pocket; “but this is something. Now I warn you,” he added, as he lowered the trigger of the revolver and put it out of sight, “that any attempt to regain this will be futile. I am surrounded by friends; no one knows you or cares about you. I shall sleep in my room to-night without precaution, for I know that the money is now mine. Nothing you can do will recall it. Your cue is silence and secrecy as to what you have lost and as to what you still have with you.”

He stopped in some confusion, interrupted by a sharp knock at the door and two voices calling his name. Allen shrank back in terror.

“You coward!” he hissed. “You promised me you’d be content with what you have.” Holcombe looked at him in amazement. “And now your accomplices are to have their share, too, are they?” the embezzler whispered, fiercely. “You lied to me; you mean to take it all.”

Holcombe, for an answer, drew back the bolt, but so softly that the sound of his voice drowned the noise it made.

“No, not to-night,” he said, briskly, so that the his voice penetrated into the hall beyond. “I mustn’t stop any longer, I’m keeping you up. It has been very pleasant to have heard all that news from home. It was such a chance, my seeing you before I sailed. Good-night.” He paused and pretended to listen. “No, Allen, I don’t think it’s a servant,” he said. “It’s some of my friends looking for me. This is my last night on shore, you see.” He threw open the door and confronted Meakim and Carroll as they stood in some confusion in the dark hall. “Yes, it is some of my friends,” Holcombe continued. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said to them. Then he turned, and, crossing the room in their sight, shook Allen by the hand, and bade him good-night and good-by.

The embezzler’s revulsion of feeling was so keen and the relief so great that he was able to smile as Holcombe turned and left him. “I wish you a pleasant voyage,” he said, faintly.

Then Holcombe shut the door on him, closing him out from their sight. He placed his hands on a shoulder of each of the two men and jumped step by step down the stairs like a boy as they descended silently in front of him. At the foot of the stairs Carroll turned and confronted him sternly, staring him in the face. Meakim at one side eyed him curiously.

“Well?” said Carroll, with one hand upon Holcombe’s wrist.

Holcombe shook his hand free, laughing. “Well,” he answered, “I persuaded him to make restitution.”

“You persuaded him!” exclaimed Carroll, impatiently. “How?”

Holcombe’s eyes avoided those of the two inquisitors. He drew a long breath, and then burst into a loud fit of hysterical laughter. The two men surveyed him grimly. “I argued with him, of course,” said Holcombe, gayly. “That is my business, man; you forget that I am a District Attorney–“

“We didn’t forget it,” said Carroll, fiercely. “Did you? What did you do?”

Holcombe backed away up the stairs shaking his head and laughing. “I shall never tell you,” he said. He pointed with his hand down the second flight of stairs. “Meet me in the smoking-room,” he continued. “I will be there in a minute, and we will have a banquet. Ask the others to come. I have something to do first.”