"Just as well," commented Meyrick. "I should not have cared to cause his arrest—it would have meant country-wide publicity." He laid a hand on the arm of the newspaper man. "I take it," he said, "that your fortunes are not at the highest ebb. You have done me a very great service. I propose to write two checks—one for you, one for your partner—and you may name the amounts."
But the red-haired one shook his head.
"No," he replied. "Nix on the anticlimax to virtue on a rampage. We can't be paid for it. It would sort of dim the glory. We've got the railroad fare at last—and we're going away from here. Yes—away from here. On the choo-choo—riding far—riding north."
"Well, my boy," answered Spencer Meyrick, "if I can ever do anything for you in New York, come and see me."
"You may have to make good on that," laughed O'Neill, and they parted.
O'Neill hastened to the Mail office. He waved yellow bills before the lanky Howe.
"In the nick of time," he cried. "Me, the
