Clarence Holt bit his lip.
"Where do you live?"
A card containing an address in Mission Street was handed to him, and, glancing carelessly at it, he put it in his pocket.
"When I want you," he said, "I shall know where to find you."
A rebellious fire burnt in Clarence's eye.
"Suppose I refuse to do your bidding?" he asked.
"Oh! well, in that case I should go to the bank and show the authorities the notes I have bought. I presume they would see that you were punished, and taken care of for a year or two."
Clarence pressed his hands together violently.
"Oh! have I come to this?" he cried. "Would to God I had taken my dear wife's advice and never gambled!"
Mr. Smith looked at him.