lowered head, the Square was deserted. Staring down on it,
North drummed idly on the window-pane. What an unspeakable fool he had
been, and what a price his folly was costing him! As he stood there,
heavy-hearted and bitter in spirit, he saw Marshall Langham crossing the
Square in the direction of his office. He watched his friend's
wind-driven progress for a moment, then slipped into his overcoat and,
snatching up his hat, hurried from the room.

Langham, with Moxlow, his law partner, occupied two handsomely furnished
rooms on the first floor, of the one building in Mount Hope that was
distinctly an office building, since its sky-scraping five stories were
reached by an elevator. Here North found Langham--a man only three or
four years older than himself, tall, broad-shouldered, with an
oratorical air of distinction and a manner that proclaimed him the
leading young lawyer at the local bar.

He greeted North cordially, and the latter observed that his friend's
face was unusually flushed, and that beads of perspiration glistened on
his forehead, which he frequently wiped with a large linen handkerchief.

"What have you been doing with yourself, Jack?" he demanded, sliding his
chair back from the desk at which he was seated. "I haven't had a
glimpse of you in days."

"I have been keeping rather quiet."

"What's the matter? Liver out of whack?" Langham smiled complacently.

"Worse than that!" North rejoined moodily.

"That's saying a good deal? What is it, Jack?"

But North was not inclined to lay bare his heart; he doubted if Langham
could be made to comprehend any part of his suffering.

"I am getting down to my last dollar, Marsh. I don't know where the
money went, but it's gone," he finally said.

Langham nodded.

"You have certainly had your little time, Jack, and it's been a
perfectly good little time, too! What are you going to do when you are
cleaned out?"

"That's part of the puzzle, Marsh, that's the very hell and all of it."

"Well, you have had your fun--lots of it!" said Langham, swabbing his
face.

North noticed the embroidered initial in the corner of the handkerchief.

"Fun! Was it fun?" he demanded with sudden heat.

"You took it for fun. Personally I think it was a pretty fair
imitation."

"Yes, I took it for fun, or mistook it; that's the pity of it! I can
forgive myself for almost everything but having been a fool!"

"That's always a hard dose to swallow," agreed Langham. He was