But that is only to tell you how I know," the tailor chuckled softly.

"And now one thing more"-- he was serious now--"when must you have this ten thousand dollars ?" "Before Monday night." "In cash ?" "In cash or something I can get cash on." The tailor rose from his seat with a satisfied air--he had evidently reached the point he had been striving for--laid the stump of his cigar on the edge of the mantel, crossed the room, fumbled in the side pocket of a coat which hung on a nail in an open closet; drew out a small key; sauntered leisurely to his desk, all the while crooning a tune to himself--Jack following his every movement, wondering what it all meant, and half regretting that he had not kept on to the ferry instead of wasting his time.

Here he unlocked a drawer, took out a still smaller key--a flat one this time--removed some books and a small Barye bronze tiger from what appeared to be a high square table, rolled back the cloth, bringing into view an old-fashioned safe, applied the key and swung back a heavy steel door.

Here, still crooning his song in a low key, dropping it and picking it up again as he moved--quite as does the grave-digger in "Hamlet"-- he drew forth a long, flat bundle and handed it to Jack.
"Take them, Mr.Breen, and put them in your inside pocket.

There are ten United States Government bonds.