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 face as he clipped Dummy, and that baby kissed the turf without a groan.

"Beast!" says the girl—the only word I ever heard her say. She motions to the chauffeur. Exit Miss Irene Gresham from the life and adventures of Kid Roberts!

With his cap in his hand and his head throwed back, the Kid stands starin' after the car. Then he snaps his fingers with a short, queer laugh and turns to me a white, strained face, which seems to have picked up five years somewheres since I seen it last.

"And there's that!" he says. "Let's get away from here!"

Carney begins showin' some signs of life, and the Kid stops a passin' taxi, tells the brigand the hotel, jumps in, and pulls me after him.

"Hey," I whispers to him, "I ain't got a nickel, and it'll cost at least two bucks to get to the hotel."

"There's every penny I have!" snarls the Kid, pullin' out a two-dollar bill and tossin' it tome. "Pay it. Now shut up and let me alone!"

From then on that baby was different. I don't know just what the change was—he was just another guy, that's all! No more did he shed a tear over bein' forced to clout the stiffs; he showed about as much mercy as the gentle Germans showed Belgium.

They is a little package and a note for the Kid when we get to the hotel, and up in the room he opens it, reads the note, and tears it up.

"There goes the last link that held me to what used to be!" he remarks, tossin' the pieces out the window.