in honest practice. I wanted, at the very least, a thousand pounds. But nothing would move him. Entreaties and threats were alike useless. Next morning when I saw him walking on the terrace of the Casino he was wearing one of those ugly black respirators which are so often used by invalids—or pseudo-invalids—on the Riviera. It suited him apparently, just at that time, to pose as one. I passed him by with a cold casual nod.
Two minutes later, there suddenly came into my mind the idea which was to free me from his slavery and give me a fair start in life.
Why not utilize some of my friend's cultures, and use the respirator as a vehicle?
I knew a good deal of medicine of course, and I felt certain that if Horatio Augustus Featherson got pneumonia his chances of life were small, seeing that he was not a young man and had led a hard, dissipated life. But, conversely, my chances of money-making were big. I should certainly pose as his friend if he were laid up, and I should have very bad luck if I did not obtain a good picking. I knew that he always kept his money upon him, generally in notes.
This, then, was to be the real parting of the ways for me. I had either to cave in, and
