I'd refuse to
buy any machinery if I couldn't get it from such a dear friend as
Worthington was. It wasn't his fault that I wasn't sent to the
penitentiary."

"No, that's right, boy." Old Lawyer Mason was quietly reminiscent.
"He tried his best. It seemed to me in those days he was more of a
persecutor than prosecutor."

"Let's forget it." Houston laughed uneasily.

"Now, to go back to the bankers--"

"There isn't much for us to do but to try them, one after another. I
guess we might as well start now as any time."

Late that afternoon they were again in the office, the features of
Mason wrinkled with thought, those of Barry Houston plainly
discouraged. They had failed. The refusals had been courteous,
fraught with many apologies for a tight market, and effusive regrets
that it would be impossible to loan money on such a gilt-edged
proposition as the contract seemed to hold forth, but-- There had
always been that one word, that stumbling-block against which they had
run time after time, shielded and padded by courtesy, but present
nevertheless. Nor were Houston and Mason unaware of the real fact
which lay behind it all; that the bankers did not care to trust their
money in the hands of a man who had been accused of murder and who had
escaped the penalty of such a charge by a margin, which to Boston, at
least, had seemed exceedingly slight. One after another, there in the
office, Mason went over the list of his business acquaintances, seeking
for some name that might mean magic to them. But no such inspiration
came.

"Drop back to-morrow, boy," he said at last. "I'll think over the
thing to-night, and I may be able to get a bright idea. It's going to
be tough sledding--too tough, I'm afraid. If only we didn't have to
buck up against that trial, and the ideas people seem to have gotten of
it, we'd be all right. But--"

There it was again, that one word, that immutable obstacle which seemed
to arise always. Houston reached for his hat.

"I'm going to keep on trying, anyway, Mr. Mason. I'll be back
to-morrow. I'm going to get that money if I have to make a canvass of
Boston, if I have to go out and sell shares at a dollar apiece and if I
go broke paying dividends. I've made my promise to go through--and I'm
going!"

"Good. I'll be looking for you."

But half an hour later, following a wandering, aimless journey through
the crooked streets, Barry Houston suddenly straightened with an
inspi