go to the devil?  He need never see him again!  And no one else would ever know!  Twenty-five thousand dollars?  It would take him years to earn such a staggering sum!  Besides, there were two distinct sides to the question.  Wasn’t Tutt just as good a lawyer as Mr. Tutt?  Couldn’t he properly decide in favor of himself when the court was equally divided?  And Tutt had said emphatically that he would be a fool to surrender the money.  As Payson Clifford trudged along the shadows of the docks he became obsessed with a curious feeling that Tutt and Mr. Tutt were both there before him; Mr. Tutt—­a tall, benevolent figure carrying a torch in the shape of a huge, black, blazing stogy that beckoned him onward through the darkness; and behind him Tutt—­a little paunchy red devil with horns and a tail—­who tweaked him by the coat and twittered, “Don’t throw away twenty-five thousand dollars!  The best way is to leave matters as they are and let the law settle everything.  Then you take no chances!”

But in the end—­along about a quarter to seven A.M.—­Mr. Tutt won.  Exhausted, but at peace with himself, Payson Clifford stumbled into the Harvard Club on Forty-fourth Street, ordered three fried eggs done on one side, two orders of bacon and a pot of coffee, and then wrote a letter which he dispatched by a messenger to Tutt & Tutt.

“Gentlemen,” it read:  “Will you kindly take immediate steps to find Miss Sarah Burch and pay over to her twenty-five thousand dollars from my father’s residuary estate.  I am entirely satisfied that this was his wish.  I am returning to Cambridge to-day.  If necessary you can communicate with me there.

“Yours very truly,

“PAYSON CLIFFORD.”

* * * * *

One might suppose that a legatee to twenty-five thousand dollars could be readily found; but Miss Sadie Burch proved a most elusive person.  No Burches grew in Hoboken—­according to either the telephone or the business directory—­and Mr. Tutt’s repeated advertisements in the newspapers of that city elicited no response.  Three months went by and it began to look as if the lady had either died or permanently absented herself—­and that Payson Clifford might be able to keep his twenty-five thousand with a clear conscience.  Then one day in May came a letter from a small town in the central part of New Jersey from Sadie Burch.  She had, she said, only just learned entirely by accident that she was an object of interest to Messrs. Tutt & Tutt.  Unfortunately, it was not convenient for her to come to New York City, but if she could be of any service to them she would be pleased, etc.

“I think I’ll give the lady the once-over!” remarked Mr. Tutt, as he looked across the glittering bay to the shadowy hills of New Jersey.  “It’s a wonderful day, and there isn’t much to do here....”

* * * * *

“Sadie Burch?  Sadie Burch?  Sure, I know her!” answered the lanky man driving the flivver tractor nearby, as he inspected the motor carrying Mr. Tutt.  “She lives in the second house beyond the big elm—­” and he started plowing again with a great clatter.