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THE HOUSE OF INTRIGUE

"What shape will the reward take?" I repeated.

"Any shape you may desire," he finally replied.

"Well, when I work I usually work for money!"

"Then money it shall be," was his prompt reply. "The question is, what amount would you expect for a couple of hours of work?"

"But what kind of work?" I repeated.

He hesitated for a moment. His ferrety eyes grew narrower.

"The attesting of a document," he explained, with an effort at a shrug, as though to intimate that all such details were insignificant.

"Attesting? What do you mean by attesting?" I promptly inquired.

"Well, perhaps the signing of a document would cover the case better," he meekly explained.

"But what good would my name be on any such document?" I demanded.

"None whatever," he acknowledged. "So it may be necessary for you to use a name not your own."

He waited, to make sure what effect this would have on me. And I began to see light.

"Say, mister, my middle name is Jeremiah when it comes to putting one over on the penal code."

"But this wouldn't be forgery," he calmly explained.

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