sittin' on the
front steps huddled over that _Herald_ like a bird with a broken wing.
She'd just read what that--that _devil_ had done, and she was crushed,
man, literally crushed!"

Dillard's voice rose with his anger, and he slid to his feet, his blue
eyes blinking and blazing, and his round fists clenched till the
knuckles showed white. Glenning, in striking contrast, stood disheveled
by the lamp, the angles of his face strongly outlined and his hair
falling over his forehead. One hand rested on the table, the other
lightly on his hip.

"It was a terrible sight, doctor--a terrible sight! I shan't forget it
if I live to be a thousand. There she was, a girl, alone, for she told
me the Major was sick and she couldn't tell him. Alone, I say, to bear
unaided this villain's hellish blow. Innocent, mistreated, helpless, but
brave! We've _got_ to do it, doctor, you and I; we've _got_ to find a
way--do you hear?"

Almost beside himself with love and rage, Dillard strode up and shook
his fist in his new friend's face, forgetting, no doubt, that Glenning
shared his views.

"Yes, we've got to find a way, Dillard," repeated John, in even tones,
and he looked down at the table where the papers lay.

"Then how, _how_, I say?" demanded his caller, furiously. "It's got to
be done quickly--at once! Major hasn't ten dollars in bank, and
Marston's positive orders are he shan't overdraw!"

"No, he shan't overdraw," again repeated John, and his gaze was still
downcast.

"Then how in hell are you goin' to manage it?"

Dillard's religious training was slipping away in the stress of the
moment.

John went into his reception room and came back with another chair. This
he placed on the other side of the table and occupied, motioning his
friend to draw up to the spot where he had formerly sat. When Dillard,
fuming and wrathful, had done so, he again fired the query:

"How are you goin' to do it?"

"This way," answered John, and he quietly picked up the draft and laid
it between Dillard's hands.

The bank clerk's fingers closed upon the paper, and when he had read the
wording on its face, simple amazement and a total lack of comprehension
was reflected from his flushed countenance.

"What's this got to do with it?" he asked, almost petulantly. "This is
to you--this is your money."

"It's my money tonight. The question is, how can we make it Major
Dudley's money without them, or anyone else, suspecting anything?"

Tom's mouth