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 running through Brewster's pockets with the quickness of a machine. "You don't go much on jewelry, I guess. Are dese shoit buttons de real t'ing?"

"They're pearls," said Monty, cheerfully.

"My favorite jool," said the man with the revolver. "Clip 'em out, Bill."

"Don't cut the shirt," urged Monty. "I'm going to a little supper and I don't like the idea of a punctured shirt-front."

"I'll be as careful as I kin, mister. There, I guess dat's all. Shall I call a cab for you, sir?"

"No, thank you, I think I'll walk."

"Well, just walk south a hundred steps without lookin' 'round er yellin' and you kin save your skin. I guess you know what I mean, pardner."

"I'm sure I do. Good-night."

"Good-night," came in chuckles from the two hold-up men. But Brewster hesitated, a sharp thought penetrating his mind.

"By gad!" he exclaimed, "you chaps are very careless. Do you know you've missed a roll of three hundred dollars in this overcoat pocket?" The men gasped and the spasmodic oaths that came from them were born of incredulity. It was plain that they doubted their ears.