The advance agent proved himself a coward, for the weapon dropped from his fingers, and, throwing up his hands, he cried:
"Don't shoot! Mercy, mercy!"
Mr. Wattles picked up the knife.
"Allston," he said, "go for a policeman."
As Al turned to leave the room, Farley cried, imploringly:
"Wait! Wattles, old man, I didn't know what I was doing. The fact is, I have been drinking pretty hard lately, but I shall be all right in a day or two."
"You don't expect to get back in my employ again, do you?" the manager asked, sternly.
"No, no, I don't. All I ask is that you will not utterly ruin all my chances for life by having me arrested. Things look bad enough for me without that."
"Very well, Farley, I'll let you off this time, but I warn you to keep out of my way in the future."
"If I keep straight and show you that I am at my best we may do business together again, eh, Wattles?"