"I had rather promised myself to keep out of New York for a year."
"It will be for only a few days. If you don't wish your presence in the city known, I'll put you up in my house. Parts of it are as secret as the grave."
"All right. But supposing the revolution falls through before it ever gets started?"
"I'll make you a bet," said Blizzard, smiling. "Please reach me that black check-book." He wrote a check, blotted it, and showed it to Wilmot. "This," he said, "against a penny! It will pay your debts. It's payable at the City Bank on January 16th. Put it in your pocket."
"When do I start for Utah?"
"Wednesday afternoon."
"I hoped to come to your concert that night."
Blizzard shook his head. "You will hear better music," he said, "in the West--rifles on the ranges. And by the way, don't lose that hat I gave you. It must be where you can get it on the 15th of January."
To Wilmot a straw hat suggested the palm-groves of a South American republic rather than the streets of New York in midwinter, and he said so; but the legless man only smiled.