“I am willing to pay well to have the job done,” he sad.

“Well, yer can find somebody ter do it fer yer.”

“But I don’t know where to find anybody, professor.”

Kelley sat down, relighted his cigar, restored his feet to the table, picked up a paper, seemed about to resume reading, and then observed: 

“Dis is no infermation bureau, but I s’pose I might put yer onter a cove dat’d do der trick fer yer if yuse come down heavy wid der stuff.”

“If you will I shall be ever so much obliged.”

“Much erbliged don’t but no whiskey.  Money talks, me boy.”

Ditson reached into his pocket and produced some money.

“I will give you five dollars to tell me of a man who will do the job for me,” he said, pulling a five-dollar bill from the roll.

“Make it ten an’ I goes yer,” said Kelley, promptly.

“Done.  Here is your money.”

Ditson handed it over.

“I’d oughter made it twenty,” grumbled the pugilist.  “Dis business is outer my line entirely, an’ I don’t want ter be mixed up in it at all—­see?  I has a repertation ter sustain, an’ it wouldn’t do fer nobody ter know I ever hed anyt’ing ter do wid such a job as dis.”

“There is no danger that anybody will ever know it,” declared Ditson, impatiently.  “I will not say anything about it.”

“Well, yer wants ter see dat yer don’t.  If yer do, I’ll hunt yer up meself, an’ I won’t do a t’ing ter youse—­not a t’ing!”

“Save your threats and come to business.  I am impatient to get away, as I do not care to be seen here by anybody who may drop in.”

“Don’t care ter be seen here!  I like dat—­nit!  Better men dan youse has been here, an’ don’t yer fergit dat!”

“Oh, I don’t care who has been here!  You have the money.  Now tell me where I can find the man I want.”

“D’yer know Plug Kirby?”

“No.”

“Well, he is der feller yer wants.”

“Where can I find him?”

“I’ll give yer his address.”

Kelley took a stub of a pencil out of his vest pocket and wrote with great labor on the margin of one of the papers.  This writing he tore off and handed to Ditson.  Then, without another word, he once more restored his feet to the top of the table and resumed reading as if there was no one in the room.

Ditson went out without a word.  When he was gone Kelley looked over the top of the paper toward the door and growled: 

“Dat feller’s no good!  If he’d wanted ter fit der odder feller hisself I’d tole him how ter bruck der odder chap’s wrist, but he ain’t got der sand ter fight a baby.  He makes me sad!  I’d like ter t’ump him a soaker on de jaw meself.”

That evening Frank went out to call on some friends.  He was returning to his rooms between ten and eleven, when, as he came to a dark corner, a man suddenly stepped out and said: 

“Give us a light, young feller.”