But he don't
know I come. He don't know nothing about it. Oh, Gaw! If he finds
out--"
"Put that money back in your pockets."
With an ashen face of despair, the man obeyed. As he finished, he
began to sag at the joints. Slowly he slackened down until he was
on his knees, an abject spectacle of disgust.
"Stand up," ordered Waldemar.
"Liss'n; liss'n t' me," moaned the man. "I'll make it three
thousand. Fi' thou--"
"Stand up!"
The editor's hearty grip on his coat collar heaved the creature to
his feet. For a moment he struggled, panting, then spun, helpless
and headlong from the room, striking heavily against the passage
wall outside. There was a half-choked groan; then his footsteps
slumped away into silence.
"Ugh!" grunted Waldemar. "Come back, Jones."
Average Jones reentered. "Have you no curiosity in your
composition?" he asked.
"Not much--having been reared in the newspaper business."
Stooping, Average Jones picked up the glasses which the man had
thrown on the floor and examined them carefully.
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