Tomlin sat down beside his friend, and becoming serious, said:
“See here, old chap, I don’t want to pry into your affairs, but why in the world did you throw Blakeley down in that cold-blooded fashion?”
“I didn’t throw Blakeley down,” began Herbert angrily.
But the other man held up his hand to stay the hot words, and replied in a low voice:
“But you did throw him down, and there is no possible way of proving anything to the contrary. Now you must have had a reason, and if you care to give it to me, I’ll be glad to listen.”
“I hope you won’t consider me rude, or lacking in friendship,” replied Herbert; “but really the circumstances make it impossible for me to tell you why I acted as I did.”
“All right, old fellow,” rejoined Tomlin, slapping Herbert on the back again; “I am satisfied whether you tell me or not. I believe in you and that is sufficient.”
Shortly before noon the following day Herbert went to the office of the New York Sentinel and presented his card to the city editor. That individual sat in his roll-top chair and gazed at the bit of pasteboard musingly:
“So you want a job, do you? Well, I have heard of your name before, and I understand that you have done some creditable work. I might make a place for you here—”
“Could you?” inquired Herbert eagerly; “I’m sure if you would give me the chance I’d make good.”