A REGRETTABLE INCIDENT.

HOUDINI was a great man in many ways. He had courage, determination, and infinite patience. In other things he was often unscrupulous and dishonest.

On one occasion I asked him to dine with me at my flat. At that time my hobby was collecting pictures of which I was said to be no mean judge: I was especially proud of one that I had recently bought, a small water colour of a handsome woman. It was a real work of art, and occupied an important position on my drawing room wall.

"How do you like that, Harry?" I asked, pointing with the stem of my pipe at my latest acquisition. "Pretty good, eh?"

"Good heavens, Will, that's mine!" came the startling reply.

"Yours?" I returned, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Of course it's mine. It was promised to me."

"Don't talk such rubbish. I can show you the receipt for it."

"I can't help that. It was offered to me, and I said I would consider the matter. I must have it."

"But I've paid for it."

"What you have done is no concern of mine. I claim that picture."

"Harry," I said, gently. "Your friendship is worth more to me than that picture. Don't let's have words over it."

"No. Don't let's. I'll take it."

Houdini removed the picture from the wall. I watched him in silence, wondering at the incredible smallness of the man's character. The next time I saw my water colour, it was hanging in the bedroom of Harry's New York home.