ers would begin
criminal proceedings, disgrace and prison stripes would follow. There
was no way out of it. He had no one to whom he could turn in this
crisis.

And now even Alicia had deserted him. This was the last straw. While he
was still able to boast of the friendship and patronage of the
aristocratic Mrs. Howard Jeffries he could still hold his head high in
the world. No one would dare question his integrity, but now she had
abandoned him to his fate, people would begin to talk. There was no use
keeping up a hopeless fight--suicide was the only way out!

He stopped in front of a mirror, startled at what he saw there. It was
the face of a man not yet thirty, but apparently much older. The
features were drawn and haggard, and his dark hair was plentifully
streaked with gray. He looked like a man who had lived two lives in one.
To-night his face frightened him. His eyes had a fixed stare like those
of a man he had once seen in a madhouse. He wondered if men looked like
that when they were about to be executed. Was not his own hour close at
hand? He wondered why the clock was so noisy; it seemed to him that the
ticks were louder than usual. He started suddenly and looked around
fearfully. He thought he had heard a sound outside. He shuddered as he
glanced toward the little drawer on the right-hand side of his desk, in
which he knew there was a loaded revolver.

If Alicia would only relent escape might yet be possible. If he did not
hear from her it must be for to-night. One slight little pressure on the
trigger and all would be over.

Suddenly the bell of the telephone connecting the apartment with the
main hall downstairs rang violently. Interrupted thus abruptly in the
midst of his reflections, Underwood jumped forward, startled. His nerves
were so unstrung that he was ever apprehensive of danger. With a
tremulous hand, he took hold of the receiver and placed it to his ear.
As he listened, his already pallid face turned whiter and the lines
about his mouth tightened. He hesitated a moment before replying. Then,
with an effort, he said:

"Send him up."

Dropping the receiver, he began to walk nervously up and down the room.
The crisis had come sooner than he expected--exposure was at hand. This
man Bennington was the manager of the firm of dealers whose goods he
disposed of. He could not make restitution. Prosecution was inevitable.
Disgrace and prison would follow. He could not stand it; he would rather
kil