replied. "Monsieur Jean Jacques' affairs
are too nicely balanced. A little shove one way or another and over goes
the whole caboose. If anyone here has influence over him, it would be a
kindness to use it. That case before the Court of Appeal, for instance;
he'd be better advised to settle it, if there is still time. One or two
of the mortgages he holds ought to be foreclosed, so that he may get
out of them all the law will let him. He ought to pouch the money that's
owing him; he ought to shave away his insurance, his lightning-rod, and
his horsedealing business; and he ought to sell his farms and his store,
and concentrate on the flour-mill and the saw-mill. He has had his
warnings generally from my lawyers, but what he wants most is the gentle
hand to lead him; and I should think that yours, M. Fille, is the hand
the Almighty would choose if He was concerned with what happens at St.
Saviour's and wanted an agent."

The Clerk of the Court blushed greatly. This was a very big man indeed
in the great commercial world, and flattery from him had unusual
significance; but he threw out his hands with a gesture of helplessness,
and said: "Monsieur, if I could be of use I would; but he has ceased to
listen to me; he--"

He got no further, for there was a sharp knock at the street door of the
outer office, and M. Fille hastened to the other room. After a moment he
came back, a familiar voice following him.

"It is Monsieur Barbille, monsieur," M. Fille said quietly, but with
apprehensive eyes.

"Well--he wants to see me?" asked M. Mornay. "No, no, monsieur. It would
be better if he did not see you. He is in some agitation."

"Fille! Maitre Fille--be quick now," called Jean Jacques' voice from the
other room.

"What did I say, monsieur?" asked the Big Financier. "The mind that's
received a blow must be moving--moving; the man with the many irons must
be flying from bellows to bellows!"

"Come, come, there's no time to lose," came Jean Jacques' voice again,
and the handle of the door of their room turned.

M. Fille's hand caught the handle. "Excuse me, Monsieur Barbille,--a
minute please," he persisted almost querulously. "Be good enough to keep
your manners... monsieur!" he added to the Financier, "if you do not
wish to speak with him, there is a door"--he pointed--"which will let
you into the side-street."

"What is his trouble?" asked M. Mornay.

M. Fille hesitated, then said reflectively: "He has lost his case i