"You are very overly kind," said Mr. Gubb.

"It's because I know you are fond of Syrilla," said Mr. Medderbrook.

Mr. Gubb blushed.

"So I ain't going to give you ten thousand dollars in cash," said Mr.

Medderbrook. "I'm going to do a lot better by you than that. I'm going to give you gold-mine stock. The only trouble--"

"Gold-mine stock sounds quite elegantly nice," said Mr. Gubb.

"The only trouble," said Mr. Medderbrook, "is that the gold-mine stock I want to give you is in a block of twenty-five thousand dollars. It's nice stock. It's as neatly engraved as any stock I ever saw, and it is genuine common stock in the Utterly Hopeless Gold-Mine Company."

"The name sounds sort of unhopeful," ventured Mr. Gubb timidly.

"That shows you don't know anything about gold mines," said Mr.

Medderbrook cheerfully. "The reason I--the reason the miners gave it that name is because this mine lies right between two of the best gold-mines in Minnesota. One of them is the Utterly Good Gold-Mine, and the other is the Far-From-Hopeless. So when I--so when the miners named this mine they took part of the names of the two others and called this one the Utterly Hopeless. That's the way I--the way it is always done."

"It's very cleverly bright," said Mr. Gubb.

"It's an old trick--I should say an old and approved method," said Mr. Medderbrook. "So what I'm going to do, Mr. Gubb, is to let you in on the ground floor on this mine. It's a chance I wouldn't offer to everybody. This mine hasn't paid out all its money in dividends. I tell you as an actual fact, Mr. Gubb, that so far it hasn't paid out a cent in dividends, not even to the preferred stock. No, sir! And it ain't one of these mines that has been mined until all the gold is mined out of it. No, sir! Not an ounce of gold has ever been taken out of the Utterly Hopeless Mine. Not an ounce."

"It is all there yet!" exclaimed Mr. Gubb.

"All there ever was," said Mr. Medderbrook. "Yes, sir! If you want me to I'll give you a written guarantee that the Utterly Hopeless Mine has never paid a cent in dividends and that not an ounce of gold has ever been taken out of the mine. That shows you I'm square about this.

So what I'm going to do," he said impressively, "is to turn over to you a block of twenty-five thousand dollars' worth of Utterly Hopeless Gold-Mine stock and apply the ten thousand dollars I owe you as part of the purchase price. All you need to do then is to pay me the other fifteen thousand dollars as rapidly as you can."

"That's very kindly generous of you," said Mr. Gubb gratefully.

"And that isn't all," said Mr. Medderbrook. "I own every single share of the stock of that mine, Mr. Gubb, and as soon as you get the fifteen thousand dollars paid up I'll advance the price of that stock one hundred per cent! Yes, sir, I'll double the price of the stock, and what you own will be worth fifty thousand dollars!"

There were tears in Philo Gubb's eyes as he grasped Mr. Medderbrook's hand.

"And all I ask," said Mr. Medderbrook, "is that you hustle up and pay that fifteen thousand dollars as quick as you can. So that," he added, "you'll be worth fifty thousand dollars all the sooner."

Upon reaching Riverbank Mr. Medderbrook took Mr. Gubb to his home and turned over to him the stock in the Utterly Hopeless Mine.

"And here," said Mr. Medderbrook, "is a receipt for ten thousand five hundred dollars, and you can give me back that five hundred I paid you for recovering of my golf cup. That's to show you everything is fair and square when you deal with me. Now you owe me only fourteen thousand five hundred dollars."

While Mr. Gubb was handing the five hundred dollars back to Mr.

Medderbrook the colored butler entered with a telegram. Mr.

Medderbrook tore it open hastily.

"Good news already," he said and handed it to Mr. Gubb. It was from Syrilla and said:--

Be brave. Have lost four ounces already. Kind regards and best love to Mr. Gubb.

With only partial satisfaction Mr. Gubb left Mr. Medderbrook and proceeded downtown. He now had a double incentive for seeking the rewards that fall to detectives, for he had Syrilla to win and the Utterly Hopeless Gold-Mine stock to pay for. He started for the Pie-Wagon, for he was hungry, but on the way certain suspicious actions of Joe Henry (the liveryman who had twice beaten him up while he was working on the dynamiter case), stopped him, and it was much later when he entered the Pie-Wagon.

As Philo Gubb entered, Billy Getz sat on one of the stools and stirred his coffee. He held a dime novel with his other hand, reading; but Pie-Wagon Pete kept an eye on him. He knew Billy Getz and his practical jokes. If unwatched for a moment, the young whipper-snapper might empty the salt into the sugar-bowl, or play some other prank that came under his idea of fun.

Billy Getz was a good example of the spoiled only son. He went in for all the vice there was in town, and to occupy his spare time he planned practical jokes. He was thirty years old, rather bald, had a pale and leathery skin, and a preternaturally serious expression. In his pranks he was aided by the group of young poker-playing, cigarette-smoking fellows known as the "Kidders."

Billy Getz, as he read the last line of the thrilling tale of "The Pale Avengers," tucked the book in his pocket, and looked up and saw Philo Gubb. The hawk-eyes of Billy Getz sparkled.

"h.e.l.lo, detective!" he cried. "Sit down and have something! You're just the man I've been lookin' for. Was askin' Pete about you not a minute ago--wasn't I, Pete?"

Pie-Wagon Pete nodded.

"Yes, sir," said Billy Getz eagerly, "I've got something right in your line--something big; mighty big--and--say, detective, have you ever read 'The Pale Avengers'?"

"I ain't had that pleasure, Mr. Getz," said Philo Gubb, straddling a stool.

"What's the matter? You're out of breath," said Pie-Wagon.

"I been runnin'," said Philo Gubb. "I had to run a little.

Deteckatives have to run at times occasionally."

"You bet they do," said Billy Getz earnestly. "You ain't been after the dynamiters, have you?"

"I am from time to time working upon that case," said Philo Gubb with dignity.

"Well, you be careful. You be mighty careful! We can't afford to lose a man like you," said Billy Getz. "You can't be too careful. Got any of the ghouls yet?"

"Not yet," said Philo Gubb stiffly. "It's a difficult case for one that's just graduated out of a deteckative school. It's like Lesson Nine says--I got to proceed cautiously when workin' in the dark."

"Or they'll get you before you get them," said Billy Getz. "Like in 'The Pale Avengers.' Here, I want you to read this book. It'll teach you some things you don't know about crooks, maybe."

"Thank you," said Philo Gubb, taking the dime novel. "Anything that can help me in my deteckative career is real welcome. I'll read it, Mr. Getz, and--Look out!" he shouted, and in one leap was over the counter and crouching behind it.

Billy Getz turned toward the door, where a short, red-faced man was standing with a pine slab held in his hand. Intense anger glittered in his eyes, and he darted to the counter and, leaning over, brought the slab down on Philo Gubb's back with a resounding whack.

"Here! Here! None o' that stuff in here, Joe," cried Pie-Wagon Pete, grasping the intruder's arm.

"I'll kill him, that's what I'll do!" shouted the intruder. "Snoopin'

around my place, and follerin' me up an' down all the time! I told him I wasn't goin' to have him d.o.g.g.i.n' me an' pesterin' me. I've beat him up twice, an' now I'm goin' to give him the worst lickin' he ever had.

Come out of there, you half-baked ostrich, you."

"Now, you stop that," said Pie-Wagon Pete sternly. "You're goin' to be sorry if you beat him up. He don't mean no harm. He's just foolish. He don't know no better. All you got to do is to explain it to him right."

"Explain?" said Joe Henry. "I'd look nice explainin' anything, wouldn't I? Hand him over here, Pete."

"Now, listen," shouted Pie-Wagon Pete angrily. "You ain't everything.

I'm your pardner, ain't I? Well, you let me fix this." He winked at Joe Henry. "You let me explain to Mr. Gubb, an' if he ain't satisfied, why--all right."

For a moment Joe Henry studied Pie-Wagon's face, and then he put down the slab.

"All right, you explain," he said ungraciously, and Philo Gubb raised his white face above the counter.