little upon faith. If my plan succeeds, as it
must, no one will lose save those who in commercial venture have staked
upon my failure, and who have no idea to-day how near I am to it. The
Insurance Companies will regain their money and more advertisement than
they could get elsewhere in twenty years. If I fail, they will only have
paid the money a few days too soon. You believe that? You must know I
could not survive failure. But you need not rely on this, for you are
safe in the fact that I cannot return without facing a prison for my few
remaining years. When first I came here to-night, Mr. Wainwright, it was
to open your safe and substitute the Wills and let you do unknowingly
what I now ask and implore you to do knowingly.--You will do it, will
you not?"

"Mr. Bateman,--once and for all,--I will not."

"You won't help me? Then, by God, you shan't hinder me!"

I sprang to my feet, but before I understood what was taking place I saw
a flash, and one of the window panes behind me shattered. Almost at the
same instant I launched myself upon the old man with such force that we
both crashed to the floor, I upon his prostrate body. The struggle was
brief, for I was young and powerfully built, and the man beneath me well
advanced in years. Pinning his arms with my knees I tore the revolver
from his hand and hurled it across the room. Then he ceased struggling
and I turned him over easily, tying his arms with my handkerchief. But
there was little need of this precaution, for his strength was gone, and
it was necessary to help him into a chair. Some moments passed before he
said anything. When he spoke there were tears in his voice.

"Forgive me, Mr. Wainwright. I don't know what possessed me. The
disappointment--the disappointment of a life's work must have suddenly
crazed me. But I am sane now and I was before. Everything I told you is
true.--I know it is impossible now to hope for anything.--Will you take
me to a hospital? I am a sick man, Mr. Wainwright--a very sick man, but
I do not wish to live. Everything--I told you--is true."

* * * * *

Ten days later Josiah Bateman died at the hospital where I took him that
night.

"It is a singular case," the House Physician told me, "but not unheard
of. He simply lacked the zest for living."

Mr. Bateman's second Will was never probated. A few days before he died
he sent for it.

"What is to-day?" he asked as I gave him the document.

"W