"What letter."
"I wrote you from Chicago, to be on hand at the 'plant' to-night."
"Did you send it to Leavenworth?"
"Yes."
"I am on my way there now. Got busted in St. Louis, couldn't make a raise, and I commenced to count ties for Leavenworth."
"Yes, then you took me for some jay, and tried to hold me up. It's lucky I met you, I need you."
"Any money in it?"
"Slathers of it."
"What's your lay?"
Cummings hesitated a minute before replying, and then said: