The Leopard's Spots by Fred M. White — Read

The more Stagg thought the matter over, the more convinced he was that he was on the right track. He could see wide possibilities here, not only in the direction of those adventures that so delighted him from time to time, but also towards a substantial return for all the trouble that he was taking. And this, as a mater of fact, was the one thing that spurred him on. For there were times when he was beginning to feel the stress of life and the struggle for existence, desirable as it appeared to be on the outside, and if he could see his way to something definite in the way of a permanent income, then he was quite prepared to turn his back upon the city and all its works. This definite income he placed at fifteen hundred pounds--quite sufficient, he told himself, for a man who knew the whole philosophy of life and one who, moreover, had an excellent idea of how to take care of himself.

But there was a long way to go before this desirable consummation could be accomplished. It called for all Stagg's shrewdness and foresight. He sat up half the night until it seemed to him that the situation was reasonably clear, then he went to bed and slept like a child.