"And there'll never be any further demands?" questioned Fred.
"Never again!" Scammon asserted, with emphasis.
"You promise that, solemnly?"
"On my honor," promised the jailbird, sardonically.
"I'll try to get you the money, Tip. But see here, I'll be in front of the drug store next to the post office, at just three o'clock to-morrow afternoon. You stop and look in the same window, but don't speak to me. If I can get the five I'll slip it into your hand. Then I'll move away. You stand looking in the window a minute or so after I leave you, will you?"
"Sure," agreed Scammon, cheerfully.
"And don't do anything so plainly that any passerby can detect the fact that you and I are meeting there. Don't let anyone see what I slip into your hand."
"That'll be all right," declared Tip Scammon, readily enough.
"And mind you, that's the last money you're ever to ask me for."
"That'll be all right, too," came readily enough from the jailbird.