“You bet！ I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kindof plodder， though， good fellow as he was. I’ve had to competewith some of the sharpest wits going to get my pile. A mangets in a groove in New York. It takes the West to put a razoredgeon him.”
The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.
“I’ll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right.
Going to call time on him sharp？”
“I should say not！” said the other. “I’ll give him half an hourat least. If Jimmy is alive on earth He’ll be here by that time.
So long， officer.”
“Good-night， sir，” said the policeman， passing on along hisbeat， trying doors as he went.
There was now a fine， cold drizzle falling， and the wind hadrisen from its uncertain puffs into a steady blow. The few footpassengers astir in that quarter hurried dismally and silentlyalong with coat collars turned high and pocketed hands. Andin the door of the hardware store the man who had come athousand miles to fill an appointment， uncertain almost toabsurdity， with the friend of his youth， smoked his cigar andwaited.
About twenty minutes he waited， and then a tall man in along overcoat， with collar turned up to his ears， hurried acrossfrom the opposite side of the street. He went directly to thewaiting man.
“Is that you， Bob？” he asked， doubtfully.
“Is that you， Jimmy Wells？” cried the man in the door.
“Bless my heart！” exclaimed the new arrival， grasping boththe other’s hands with his own. “It’s Bob， sure as fate. I wascertain I’d find you here if you were still in existence. Well，well， well！—twenty years is a long time. The old restaurant’sgone， Bob； I wish it had lasted， so we could have had anotherdinner there. How has the West treated you， old man？”
“Bully； it has given me everything I asked it for. You’vechanged lots， Jimmy. I never thought you were so tall by twoor three inches.”
“Oh， I grew a bit after I was twenty.”
“Doing well in New York， Jimmy？”
“Moderately. I have a position in one of the city departments.
Come on， Bob； We’ll go around to a place I know of， and havea good long talk about old times.”
The two men started up the street， arm in arm. The man fromthe West， his egotism enlarged by success， was beginning tooutline the history of his career. The other， submerged in hisovercoat， listened with interest.
At the corner stood a drug store， brilliant with electriclights. When they came into this glare each of them turnedsimultaneously to gaze upon the other’s face.
The man from the West stopped suddenly and released hisarm.
“You’re not Jimmy Wells，” he snapped. “Twenty years is along time， but not long enough to change a man’s nose from aRoman to a pug.”
“It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one，” said thetall man. “You’ve been under arrest for ten minutes， ‘silky’
Bob. Chicago thinks you may have dropped over our way andwires us she wants to have a chat with you. Going quietly，are you？ That’s sensible. Now， before we go on to the stationhere’s a note I was asked to hand you. You may read it here atthe window. It’s from Patrolman Wells.”
The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paperhanded him. His hand was steady when he began to read， butit trembled a little by the time he had finished. The note wasrather short.
Bob： I was at the appointed place on time. When you struckthe match to light your cigar I saw it was the face of the manwanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn’t do it myself， so Iwent around and got a plain clothes man to do the job.