ou." He stopped there, and was so long about getting anything else out
that Worth finally suggested,

"The money?" And when there was no reply but a surprised look, "How do
you stand now?"

"Still seventy-two thousand to raise." Cummings spoke vaguely. This was
not what had brought him to the office. He finished with the abrupt
question, "Were you at Santa Ysobel last night?"

"Hold on, Cummings," I broke in. "What you got? Let us--"

I was shut off there by Worth's,

"It's Sunday afternoon. I want that money to-morrow morning. You've not
come through? You've not dug up what I sent you after?"

I could see that the lawyer was absolutely nonplussed. Again he gave
Worth one of those queer, probing looks before he said doggedly,

"The question of that money can wait."

"It can't wait." Worth's eyes began to light up. "What you talking,
Cummings--an extension?" And when the lawyer made no answer to this,
"I'll not crawl in with a broken leg asking favors of that bank crowd.
Are you quitting on me? If so, say it--and I'll find a way to raise the
sum, myself."

"I've raised all but seventy-two thousand of the necessary amount," said
Cummings slowly. "What I want to know is--how much have you raised?"

"See here, Cummings," again I mixed in. "I was present when that
arrangement was made. Nothing was said about Worth raising any money."

Cummings barely glanced around at me as he said, "I made a suggestion to
him; in your presence, as you say, Boyne. I want to know if he carried
it out." Then, giving his full attention to Worth, "Did you see your
father last night?"

On instinct I blurted,

"For heaven's sake, keep your mouth shut, Worth!"

For a detective that certainly was an incautious speech. Cummings' eye
flared suspicion at me, and his voice was a menace.

"You keep out of this, Boyne."

"You tell what's up your sleeve, Cummings," I countered. "This is no
witness-stand cross-examination. What you got?"

But Worth answered for him, hotly,

"If Cummings hasn't seventy-two thousand dollars I commissioned him to
raise for me, I don't care what he's got."

"And you didn't go to your father for it last night?" Cummings returned
to his question. He had moved close to the boy. Barbara stood just where
she was when the door opened. Neither paid any attention to her. But she
looked at the two men, drawn up with glances clinched, and spoke out
suddenly in her clear young voice, as though there was no row on ha