He turned to the stuff I threw on the bed. “Better brush your clothes off carefully, Kid. There are still some smudges on your coat.” He looked at me critically. “And a button gone.” He pointed to where there should have been a button. “Take that suit off. Put on your old one. That button is around that porch and it’s enough to bury us both in Quentin. Tear the tailor’s tags out of those clothes, wrap them up, go out, and throw them in a lot somewhere, not too close to this place. Tomorrow you can order a new suit. That one is poison. While you’re out, I’ll take these stones out of their harness.”

It broke my heart to throw away a new suit of clothes, but I was a good apprentice and obeyed. When I returned he had finished unharnessing the stones. There was a fistful of broken gold settings, and some small articles of little value. “Wrap that junk up, kid, take it out and throw it in a lot and not the same lot you left the clothes in, either,” said the master.