looked at the ungainly, grotesque figure of the wiper for an instant curiously, then without a word led the way out of the shops.
They traversed the yard in silence, climbed the stairs in the station, and entered the super's room. Marley closed the door and stood with his back against it.
Carleton, at his desk, looked from one to the other in surprise.
"Hello," said he. "What's up?"
The master mechanic jerked his thumb at Marley, and appropriated a chair.
"He wanted me to come over. I don't know what for."
Carleton turned inquiringly to the wiper.
"What is it?" he demanded.
Marley walked slowly across the room until he reached the super's desk. His face was drawn, and he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue.
"It's about Mrs. Coogan," he said jerkily. "Five thousand would be enough, wouldn't it?"
Carleton stared at the man as though he were mad, and Regan hitched his chair suddenly forward.
"Will you swear to give it to her if I get it for you?"—Marley's hand, clenched, was on the desk, and he leaned his body far forward toward the super. There was no flutter of the eyelids now, and his eyes stared into Carleton's without a flicker. "Swear it!" he cried fiercely.
Carleton drew back involuntarily.
"Marley," he said soothingly, "you're not yourself, you"
