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 in Springfield,” snarled Titus, but Jake saw fear in his eyes.

“You was, and you was kind of dressy then, a reg’lar dude. Could talk like it, too…. Oh, I’m onto your track now, ol’ rooster, and I’ll git you perty soon.”

Next morning in the printing shop Jake was boasting of his success to Dave Wilkins. “Burke wa’n’t his name then,” said Jake. “Funny sort of first name it was, too. I remember it was a kind of a onusual one.”

“If you recall it,” said Dave, “bring it to me. Don’t mention it to anybody else. Angus has enough on his shoulders without having any new rascality of his father’s dug up out of the past.”

“Me!… Say, I wouldn’t mention nothin’ to nobody—not for money, not for cash money paid into my hand,” Jake declared, and then he stopped, open-mouthed. “Cash money…. Cash money…. Cash! That’s it, that’s what I been tryin’ to remember. Cash his name was. Cassius was his identical name.”

Cash! That name was vaguely familiar, irritatingly suggestive to Dave Wilkins. It carried a significance with it, but what? What did the name of Cash carry on its back? What ought he to connect with the classic name of Cæsar’s enemy?… Nor could Jake attach a family name to it. “Seems like we jest called him Cash