CHAPTER XXXIV.

HELP.

The moment she was gone, Watts held out his hand, saying: "Here, old
man, let us shake hands again. It's almost like going back to college
days to see my old chum. Come to the snuggery, where we shan't be
interrupted." They went through two rooms, to one fitted up as a
smoking-room and office. "It's papa-in-law's workshop. He can't drop his
work at the bank, so he brings it home and goes on here. Sit down. Here,
take a cigar. Now, are you comfortable?"

"Yes."

"_Maintenant_, I suppose you want to know why I wrote you to come so
quickly?"

"Yes."

"Well, the truth of it is, I'm in an awful mess. Yesterday I was so
desperate I thought I should blow my brains out. I went round to the
club to see if I couldn't forget or drown my trouble, just as sick as a
man could be. Fellows talking. First thing I heard was your name. 'Just
won a great case.' 'One of the best lawyers in New York.' Thinks I to
myself, 'That's a special providence.' Peter always was the fellow to
pull me through my college scrapes. I'll write him.' Did it, and played
billiards for the rest of the evening, secure in the belief that you
would come to my help, just as you used to."

"Tell me what it is?"

"Even that isn't easy, chum. It's a devilish hard thing to tell even to
you."

"Is it money trou--?"

"No, no!" Watts interrupted. "It isn't that. The truth is I've a great
deal more money than is good for me, and apparently always shall have. I
wish it were only that!"

"How can I help you?" began Peter.

"I knew you would," cried Watts, joyfully. "Just the same old reliable
you always were. Here. Draw up nearer. That's it. Now then, here goes. I
shan't mind if you are shocked at first. Be as hard on me as you like."

"Well?"

"Well, to make a long story short, I'm entangled with a woman, and
there's the devil to pay. Now you'll pull me through, old man, won't
you?"

"No."

"Don't say that, Peter! You must help me. You're my only hope.

"I do not care to mix myself in such a business," said Peter, very
quietly. "I would rather know nothing about it." Peter rose.

"Don't desert me," cried Watts, springing to his feet, and putting his
hand on Peter's shoulder, so as to prevent his progress to the door.
"Don't. She's going to expose me. Think of the disgrace! My God, Peter,
think--"

"Take your hand off my shoulder."

"But Peter, think--"

"The time to think was before--not now, Watts. I will not concern