Minot was walking blankly down the street in the direction of his morning paper when a poster in a deserted store window caught his eye. It was an atrocious poster—red letters on a yellow background. It announced that five hundred dollars reward would be paid by Mr. Henry Trimmer for information that would disclose the present whereabouts of the real Lord Harrowby.
As Minot stood reading it, a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder. Turning, he looked into the lean and hostile face of Henry Trimmer himself.
"Good morning," said Mr. Trimmer.
"Good morning," replied Minot.
"Glad to number you among my readers," sneered Trimmer. "What do you think—reward large enough?"
"Looks about the right size to me," Minot answered.
"Me, too. Ought to bring results pretty quick. By the way, you were complaining last night that you never heard of me until you came here. I've been thinking that over, and I've de-
