carry to the public mind the suggestion of prosperity. At the moment you look in every way more of a five-pound note than I do. It must be you."
"Very well," he grunted. "Let me; that's all."
"But not here," I suggested. "Don't send out for change. Let it be to-morrow, in the ordinary way of making a purchase somewhere. That's half the business."
He nodded. "I'll tell you what, Sissley," he said. "I'll try a money bureau. Right in the glare of the limelight, my boy! What if it doesn't come off? I've been had with a wrong 'un, that's all."
I came nearer admiring him then than ever before—or since.
"Excellent!" I cried. "That stamps it as a merry jest throughout."
"Well, you and your wit can have the armchair for the night," he said, half-grudgingly. Had I been host, my guest should have had the bed; but such was the man.
The next morning Dunford went out after breakfast, and in less than half-an-hour returned with six gold pieces, three francs and a half, and the admission that he had expended the other two francs in a small bottle of Bass.
"It's too easy, my son," he said, swelling with self-consequence. "Always put your money with the Old Firm. Who gave Yellow Rambler at a thousand to eight for the Warlaytree Plate? We are the people. Coming out?"
"Presently," I said, "presently; but, in the meantime, I should like a few minutes of your serious attention. While you have been out—drinking beer, Dunford—I have been thinking."
"Let it go at that," he retorted. "Yes; while I have
