n, be it noted, such as would have been
excusable in a gentleman of his pale and sleek plumpness, but soul-wrung
sweat, the globules whereof gathered in the grayish hollows under his
eyes and assailed, not without effect, the glistening expanse of his
tall white collar. He darted a glance at Bertram, then turned to Average
Jones.

"I had hoped for a private interview," he said in a high piping voice.

"Mr. Bertram is my friend and business confidant."

"Very good. You--you have read it?"

"Yes."

"Then--then--then--" The visitor fumble with nerveless fingers, at his
tightly buttoned cut-away coat. It resisted his efforts. Suddenly, with
a snarl of exasperation, he dragged violently at the lapel, tearing
the button outright from the cloth. "Look what I have done," he said,
staring stupidly for a moment at the button which had shot across the
room. Then, to the amazed consternation of the others, he burst into
tears.

Average Jones pushed a chair behind him, while Bertram brought him a
glass of water. He gulped out his thanks, and, mastering himself after
a moment's effort, drew a paper from his inner pocket which he placed on
the desk. It was a certified check for one hundred dollars, made payable
to Jones.

"There's the rest of a thousand ready, if you can help me," he said.

"We'll talk of that later," said the prospective beneficiary. "Sit tight
until you're able to answer questions."

"Able now," piped the other in his shrill voice. "I'm ashamed of
myself, gentlemen, but the strain I've been under-- When you've heard my
story--"

"Just a moment, please," interrupted Average Jones, "let me get at this
my own way."

"Any way you like," returned the visitor.

"Good! Now what is it that points to you?"

"I don't know any more than you."

"What are the 'some things' that are worse than death?"

Mr. Robinson shook his head. "I haven't the slightest notion in the
world."

"Nor of the 'short cut' which you are advised to take?"

"I suppose it means suicide." He paused for a moment. "They can't drive
me to that--unless they drive me crazy first." He wiped the sweat from
under his eyes, breathing hard.

"Who are they?"'

Mr. Robinson shook his head. In the next question the interrogator's
tone altered and became more insistent.

"Have you ever called in a doctor, Mr. Robinson?"

"Only once in five years. That was when my nerves broke down--under
this."

"When you do call in a doctor, is it your h