he uttered the rest of the sentence between clenched teeth. "—you'll meet with no opposition from me. I'll help you put the thing over."
He gave Markham a grim smile, and took up his hat.
"I'm going back to the office now. If you want me at any time, let me know. I may be able to help you—later on."
With a friendly, appreciative bow to Vance, he went out.
Markham sat in silence for several minutes.
"Damn it, Vance!" he said irritably. "This case gets more difficult by the hour. I feel worn out."
"You really shouldn't take it so seriously, old dear," Vance advised lightly. "It doesn't pay y' know, to worry over the trivia of existence.
And nothing's true,
And nothing really matters.'
Several million johnnies were killed in the war, and you don't let the fact bedevil your phagocytes or inflame your brain-cells. But when one rotter is mercifully shot in your district, you lie awake nights perspiring over it, what? My word! You're deucedly inconsistent."
"Consistency" began Markham; but Vance interrupted him.
"Now don't quote Emerson. I inf'nitely prefer Erasmus. Y' know, you ought to read his Praise of Folly; it would cheer you no end. That goaty old Dutch professor would never have grieved incon-
