pleased for months, and no profitable opportunity had escaped him.  These gains he had deposited in inconspicuous sums in rural savings banks.  What he did not deposit he had invested in timber land.  The evidence against him had been collected with care.  Upon two occasions Holcomb said he took the trapper with him as a witness.  The two had moved skilfully on, the trail of the culprit and had watched him at work; once he was busy ruining a costly system of water-filters.  They had let him pass—­he having stepped within a rod of them unconscious of their presence.

* * * * *

With these facts before him Thayor came to an instant conclusion.  The result was that a little before noon on this same day—­the day of Sperry’s departure—­the owner of Big Shanty sent for Bergstein.  Both the trapper and Holcomb were present.  Thayor stood beside the broad writing table of his den as Bergstein entered; his manner was again that of the polite, punctilious man of affairs; he was exceedingly calm and exasperatingly pleasant.  To all outward appearances the black-bearded man, grasping his dusty derby in his hand, might have been a paying teller summoned to the president’s office for an increase of salary.

“Mr. Bergstein” Thayor said, “dating from to-morrow, the 8th of September, I shall no longer need your services.  You may therefore consider what business relations have existed between us at an end.”

A sullen flash from the black eyes accompanied Bergstein’s first words, his clammy hand gripping the rim of the derby lined with soiled magenta satin.

“See here, Mr. Thayor,” the voice began, half snarl, half whine.

“That will do, Mr. Bergstein,” returned Thayor briskly.  “I believe the situation is sufficiently clear to need no further explanation on either your part or mine.  I bid you good morning.”

Bergstein turned, with the look of a trapped bear, to Holcomb and the old man; what he saw in their steady gaze made him hesitate.  He put on his hat and walked out of the door without again opening his thick lips.

“You ain’t goin’ to let him go free, be ye?” exclaimed the trapper in astonishment.  Holcomb started to speak, glancing hurriedly at the retreating criminal.

“What he has taken from me,” interrupted Thayor, “I can replace; what he has taken from himself he can never replace.”  He turned to a small mahogany drawer and extracted a thin, fresh box of Havanas.  “Let us forget,” he said, as he pried open the fragrant lid.  “Be tolerant, Billy—­be tolerant even of scoundrels,” and he struck a match for the trapper.