They had now reached Madison Square, and Jasper left Rodney.

The latter looked after him with a smile.

“I think I have puzzled Jasper,” he said to himself.  “He was anxious to know how his scheme had worked.  He will have to wait a little longer.”

“If Mr. Sargent keeps Ropes after my letter he must be a fool,” Jasper decided.  “I wonder if Ropes handles the mail.  He might have suppressed the letter.”

But Rodney was not familiar with his handwriting, and would have no reason to suspect that the particular letter contained anything likely to injure him in the eyes of Mr. Sargent.

Later in his walk Jasper met Philip Carton.  His former friend was sitting on a bench in Madison Square.  He called out to Jasper as he passed.

“Come here, Jasper, I want to talk with you.”

Jasper looked at him in a manner far from friendly.

“I am in a hurry,” he said.

“What hurry can you be in?  Come and sit down here.  I must speak to you.”

Jasper did not like his tone, but it impressed him, and he did not dare to refuse.

He seated himself beside Philip, but looked at him askance.  Carton was undeniably shabby.  He had the look of a man who was going down hill and that rapidly.

“I shall be late for dinner,” grumbled Jasper.

“I wish I had any dinner to look forward to,” said Carton.  “Do you see this money?” and he produced a nickel from his pocket.

“What is there remarkable about it?”

“It is the last money I have.  It won’t buy me a dinner.”

“I am sorry, but it is none of my business,” said Jasper coolly.  “You are old enough to attend to your own affairs.”

“And I once thought you were my friend,” murmured Philip bitterly.

“Yes, we were friends in a way.”

“Now you are up and I am down—­Jasper, I want a dollar.”

“I dare say you do.  Plenty want that.”

“I want it from you.”

“I can’t spare it.”

“You can spare it better than you can spare your situation.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Jasper, growing nervous.

“I’ll tell you what I mean.  How long do you think you would stay in the store if Mr. Goodnow knew that you were concerned in the theft from which he has suffered?”

“Was I the only one?”

“No; I am equally guilty.”

“I am glad you acknowledge it.  You see you had better keep quiet for your own sake.”

“If I keep quiet I shall starve.”

“Do you want to go to prison?”

“I shouldn’t mind so much if you went along, too.”

“Are you crazy, Philip Carton?”

“No, I am not, but I am beginning to get sensible.  If I go to prison I shall at least have enough to eat, and now I haven’t.”

“What do you mean by all this foolish talk?”

“I mean that if you won’t give me any money I will go to the store and tell Mr. Goodnow something that will surprise him.”