ver caught sight of the announcement of the suit with a sudden
sharp intake of breath that was half gasp, half cry, starting up from
the window-seat, reading it over again and again with staring eyes.

It was a very short paragraph, not more than a dozen lines, lost at the
bottom of a column, among the cheap advertisements. It made no allusion
to any former stage of the affair; from its tone Ida might have killed
herself only the day before. It seemed hardly more than a notice that
some enterprising reporter, burrowing in the records at the City Hall,
had unearthed and brought to light with the idea that it might be of
possible interest to a few readers of the paper. But there was his name
staring back at him from out the gray blur of the type, like some
reflection of himself seen in a mirror. Insignificant as the paragraph
was, it seemed to Vandover as though it was the only item in the whole
paper. One might as well have trumpeted his crime through the streets.

"But twenty-five thousand dollars!" exclaimed Vandover, terrified.
"Where will _I_ find twenty-five thousand dollars?" And at once he fell
to wondering as to whether or no in default of payment he could be sent
to the penitentiary. The idea of winning the suit did not enter his mind
an instant; he did not even dream of fighting it.

For the moment it was like fire driving out fire. He forgot the loss of
his art, his mind filled only with the sense of the last disaster. What
could he do? Twenty-five thousand dollars! It would ruin him. A cry of
exasperation, of rage at his own folly, escaped him. "Ah, what a fool
I've been!"

For an hour he raged to and fro in the delightful sunlit room, pacing
back and forth in its longest dimension between the bamboo tea-table and
the low bookcase, a thousand different plans and projects coming and
going in his head. As his wits steadied themselves he began to see that
he must consult at once with some lawyer--Field, of course--perhaps
something could be done; a clever lawyer might make out a case for him
after all. But all at once he became convinced that Field would not
undertake his defence; he knew he had no case; so what could Field do
for him? He would have to tell him the truth, and he saw with absolute
clearness that the lawyer would refuse to try to defend him. The thing
could not honourably be done. But, then, what _should_ he do? He must
have legal advice from some quarter.

He was still in this state of perple