nt to buy it, eh?" To conceal his amazement, he walked to the
window. "Why don't you throw your money out here?" he asked. "You can
lose it that way with less trouble."

Judith had no answering smile. Her eyes narrowed and her lips formed a
little straighter line.

"Will you draw up the papers for me, John? I've phoned Mr. Good, and he
will be here any minute."

"Mr. Good, eh? You have a good deal of faith in him, haven't you? So
he's the nigger in the pile, is he?"

"Have _you_ any reason not to have faith in him?" Baker was silent, and
a curious expression, which she could not fathom, formed on his face.

"No," he murmured finally, with what seemed like an effort, "I have
not."

"Personally I have the utmost confidence in him," said Judith with a
shortness which brooked no further discussion of the topic. Baker looked
at her thoughtfully for a moment. Then he pressed a button on his desk.

"It's your funeral, Judith. I never thought you were a fool...."

"Before?" she interrupted, with her first smile.

It was significant that he made no reply.

In due course Good arrived, accompanied by another lawyer, a tall, thin
man, with a prodigious moustache, who said absolutely nothing that was
intelligible to her. While he and Baker were conferring, Good drew her
into an ante-room and closed the door.

He was greatly agitated, and the perspiration kept coming out on his
forehead in spite of his constant efforts to wipe it away. He presented
a curious contrast to her perfect calm.

"Miss Wynrod--before we go into this thing--you must know what it
means--absolutely. I mustn't hide anything."

"Don't I know all?" She lifted her eyebrows. She smiled inwardly as she
thought how much more she knew about it than Good did.

He paced nervously in front of her. "I hope so. I don't know. But you
must."

"What is lacking?"

"It's going to cost--more than the purchase price--"

"I know that."

"It's going to cost more than you guess--incalculably more."

"I don't understand."

"I know--but you must. We're going to dedicate this paper to one
thing--the truth. Sometimes the truth isn't easy to tell. The telling
of it may bring you--it may--oh, don't you see--those closest to
you--dearest to you--they may be the least able to stand the
truth. You don't know what it means. You can't. Are you ready to
forsake--all? ... I mean that literally, Miss Wynrod." She had never seen
him so utterly excited, so moved to the dept