LITMIR.BIZ

       The Professor was caught

       "Well, I think," continued Jimmy, "and I think we ought to think, that you are doing the right thing, and, well, I like to tell you so."

      The relations between Jimmy and his prisoner were getting almost cordial. He pushed the table so that that prisoner, when he was untied, should be able to write upon it. He put before him a type-written sheet of note-paper, an envelope, an ink-bottle, and a pen, which, with the exception of the benches on which he and his companion sat, the table and the chair, were all the furniture the place contained.

      "And now, sir," added Jimmy, going behind the Psychologist and releasing his elbows, "now, sir" (here he wound the rope round the Professor's waist, secured it, and left his legs still tied to the chair rungs), "now, sir, perhaps we can come to business!"

      Poor Mr. Higginson had never been so cramped in his life. He was far from young. The circulation in his lower arms had almost stopped. He brought them forward painfully and slowly and composed them upon the table, then his right hand slowly sought his waistcoat pocket, where reposed the sovereign and half-sovereign of his ransom.

      "Of course," he began, intending to explain the smallness of the sum, for he could not but feel that it was very little gold for so considerable a circumstance of paper formalities and violence, "of course——" when Jimmy interrupted him.

      "I need not tell you the sum," said that youth rather coldly.

      "Oh, no," twittered Melba, "he knows that well enough!" Then added, "G-r-r-r!" as in anger at a dog.

      "Well—er—gentlemen, I confess"—began Mr. Higginson, hesitating.

      "To be frank," said Jimmy rather sharply, "we all three know the sum perfectly well, and you perhaps, sir, with your business habits and your really peculiar ideas upon honour, best of all. It 's two thousand pounds," he concluded calmly.

      "Two thousand pounds?" shrieked the Professor.

      "What did you expect?" broke in Melba an octave higher. "A bonus and a presentation gold watch?"

      "Two thousand pounds!" repeated the bewildered Philosopher in a gasping undertone.

      "Yes," rapped out Jimmy smartly, "two thousand pounds! … Really! After all that has passed——"

      "But," shouted the Professor wildly, saying the first words that came to him, "I haven't got such a sum in the world. I—I don't know what you mean?"

      Jimmy's face took on a very severe and dreadful expression.

      "Mr. Brassington," he began in a slow and modulated tone.

      "I 'm not Mr. Brassington, whoever Mr. Brassington may be," protested the unhappy victim, half understanding the portentous error. "What on earth do you take me for?"

      Jimmy by this time was in a mood to stand no nonsense.

      "Mr. Brassington," he said, "you broke your word to us once this evening when you kicked out at Melba, and that ought to have been a lesson to me. I was foolish enough to believe you when you gave your word a second time. I certainly believed it when you gave it a third time after we released you." (It was a very partial release, but no matter.) "Now," said he, setting his lips firmly, "if you try to shuffle out of the main matter, I warn you it will be the worse for you, very much the worse for you, indeed. You will be good enough to sign us a cheque for two thousand pounds, and to sign the type-written acknowledgment in front of you."

      Men in bewilderment do foolish things even when they are men of judgment, and Professor Higginson certainly was not that. His next words were fatal.

      "Do you suppose I carry a cheque-book on me?" he roared.

      "Melba," said Jimmy quietly, in the tones of a general officer commanding an orderly, "go through him."

      The Professor having said a foolish word, followed it by a still more foolish action. He dived into the right-hand pocket of the Green Overcoat with a gesture purely instinctive. Melba was upon him like a fat hawk, almost wrenched his arm from its socket, and drew from that right-hand pocket a noble great cheque-book of a brilliant red, with a leather backing such as few cheque-books possess, and having printed on it in bold plutocratic characters—

      "John Brassington, Esqr.,

       'Lauderdale,'

       Crampton Park, Ormeston."

      Melba conveyed the cheque-book solemnly to Jimmy, and the two young men sat down again opposite their involuntary creditor, spreading it out open before them in an impressive manner.

      "Mr. Brassington," said Jimmy, "what do I see here? Everything that I should have expected from a man of your prominence in the business world and of your known careful habits. I see neatly written upon the fly-leaf, ‘Private Account,' and the few counterfoils to the cheques already drawn carefully noted. I perceive," continued Jimmy, summing up boldly, "the sum of £50 marked 'self' upon the second of this month. The object of your munificence does not surprise me. Upon the next counterfoil I see marked £173 10s. It is in settlement of a bill—a garage bill. I am glad to see that you recognise and pay some of your debts. The third counterfoil," he said, peering more closely, "relates to a cheque made out

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