money to scatter, money to spend for the
good things of life.

But he had made the fatal mistake of anticipating the success in which
he so firmly believed. Those notes--he dashed his hand before his face;
suddenly the air of the room seemed to stifle him, courage and cunning
had left him; there was only North to whom he could turn for a few
hundreds with which to quiet Gilmore. Let him but escape the
consequences of his folly this time and he promised himself he would
retrench; he would live within his income, he would apply himself to his
profession as he had never yet applied himself. He scowled heavily at
Gilmore, who met his scowl with a cynical smile.

"Well, what are you going to do?" he queried.

But Langham did not answer at once. He had turned and was looking from
the window. It was snowing now very hard, and twilight, under the edges
of torn gray clouds was creeping over the Square; he could barely see
the flickering lights in Archibald McBride's dingy shop-windows.

"Give me a chance, Andy!" he said at last appealingly.

"To the end of the month, not a day more," asserted Gilmore.

"Where am I to get such a sum in that time? You know I can't do it!"

"Don't ask me, but turn to and get it, Marsh. That's your only hope."

"By the first of the year perhaps," urged Langham.

"No, get rid of the notion that I am going to let up on you, for I
ain't! I'm going to squat on your trail until the money's in my hand;
otherwise I know damn well I won't ever see a cent of it! I ain't your
only creditor, but the one who hounds you hardest will see his money
first, and I got you where I want you."

"I can't raise the money; what will you gain by ruining me?" demanded
Langham. He wished to impress this on Gilmore, and then he would propose
as a compromise the few hundreds it would be possible to borrow from
North.

"To get square with you, Marsh, will be worth something, and frankly, I
ain't sure that I ever expected to see any of that money, but as long as
you stood my friend I was disposed to be easy on you."

"I am still your friend."

"Just about so-so, but you won't keep Moxlow--"

"I can't!"

"Then I can't see where your friendship comes in." Gilmore quitted his
chair.

"Wait, Andy!" said Langham hastily.

"No use of any more talk, Marsh, I want my money! Go dig it up."

"Suppose, by straining every nerve, I can raise five hundred dollars by
the end of the month--"

"Oh, pay your grocer with th