she lifted her hand for silence.

"I have the money," she cried. "You shall all be paid in full."

The crowd moved back, abashed. A silence, the hush of tense
anticipation, fell on them.

"Every dollar will be repaid," she assured them. "I promise it."

Her voice, though softly modulated, had a penetrating quality which
carried it to the hearing of those in the office. Someone opened the
door and she entered. The crowd, evidently scenting some new deceit
swarmed in after her.

"What assurance have we that we're going to get the money?" one of them
demanded.

Even to her agitated mind it became evident that an antagonistic spirit
animated the crowd. After their first surprise, they refused to extend
unqualified credence to her words.

"You have my word," she said impressively. Then, as her eyes met the
derisive smiles with which her promise was received, she discarded the
discretion which otherwise she might have maintained. "I have inherited
the money with which I shall pay you," she informed them. "I am the
chief beneficiary under Mr. Whitmore's will. The fortune which comes to
me shall go toward repaying you."

Her earnestness, the obvious honesty of her purpose, began to exert a
favorable influence on the listeners. Despair had deadened the
consideration to which she was entitled as a woman; hope now galvanized
it into life. The crowd began to draw back sheepishly, as if ashamed of
its inconsiderate conduct. Taking advantage of the favorable turn, Britz
and Greig stepped forward.

"If you believe this lady, please leave the office and permit her to see
the receiver," Britz appealed to the crowd's chivalry.

They filed out of the office, slowly, reluctantly, as if not quite
believing what they had heard, yet not daring to display their doubt
openly. She might change her mind if they remained; so, out of prudence,
they withdrew.

When the last of them had disappeared through the door, Britz turned the
key in the lock and advanced toward the woman. She had dropped into a
chair which the receiver had thoughtfully provided. At her side,
regarding her with an expression of puzzled interest, stood a
medium-sized, stooped man, with iron-gray hair and beard, whose cold,
steely eyes looked down on her as if toying to read her inmost thoughts.

"Why, Mrs. Collins, what does it mean?" he inquired.

She met his gaze steadily, with a faint smile.

"It was very kind of you, Mr. Luckstone, to telephone," she murmur