It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. The man turned at the exclamation, and so did several of the bystanders; but they could not make out who had uttered it. Not a word had been exchanged between the two boys on the road. With the aid of a penknife he ripped the shoulder seams and drew out the ten one-thousand dollar bills. "I haven't offended you?"—not contritely but curiously. I suspect he has a bit of vanity.
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