"Oh, piffle!" Bassett groaned. "Don't start that all over again. Don't

pull any Enoch Arden stuff on me, looking in at a lighted window and

wandering off to drive a taxicab."

Suddenly Dick laughed. Bassett watched him, puzzled and angry, with a

sort of savage tenderness.

"You're crazy," he said morosely. "Darned if I understand you. Here I've

got everything fixed as slick as a whistle, and it took work, believe

me. And now you say you're going to chuck the whole thing."

"Not at all," Dick replied, with a new ring in his voice. "You're right.

I've been ten sorts of a fool, but I know now what I'm going to do. Take

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your paper, old friend, and for my sake go out and clear Jud Clark. Put

up a headstone to him, if you like, a good one. I'll buy it."

"And what will you be doing in the meantime?"

Dick stretched and threw out his arms.

"Me?" he said. "What should I be doing, old man? I'm going home."




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