n
expert in installing systems and discovering irregularities. Here I am,
faced by certain exposure," he went on, pacing the floor and looking
everywhere but at her face. "What should I do? Borrow? It is useless. I
have no security that anyone would accept.

"There is just one thing left." He lowered his voice until it almost
sank into a hoarse whisper. "I must cut loose. I have scraped together
what I can and I have borrowed on my life insurance. Here on the table
is all that I can spare.

"To-night, the last night, I have worked frantically in a vain hope
that something, some way would at last turn up. It has not. There is no
other way out. In despair I have put this off until the last moment.
But I have thought of nothing else for a week. Good God, Constance, I
have reached the mental state where even intoxicants fail to
intoxicate."

He dropped back again into the deep chair and sank his head again on
his hands. He groaned as he thought of the agony of packing a bag and
slinking for the Western express through the crowds at the railroad
terminal.

Still Constance was silent. Through her mind was running the single
thought that she had misjudged him. There had been no other woman in
the case. As he spoke, there came flooding into her heart the sudden
realization of the truth. He had done it for her.

It was a rude and bitter awakening after the past months when the
increased income, with no questions asked, had made her feel that they
were advancing. She passed her hands over her eyes, but there it was
still, not a dream but a harsh reality. If she could only have gone
back and undone it! But what was done, was done, She was amazed at
herself. It was not horror of the deed that sent an icy shudder over
her. It was horror of exposure.

He had done it for her. Over and over again that thought raced through
her mind. She steeled herself at last to speak. She hardly knew what
was in her own mind, what the conflicting, surging emotions of her own
heart meant.

"And so, you are leaving me what is left, leaving me in disgrace, and
you are going to do the best you can to get away safely. You want me to
tell one last lie for you."

There was an unnatural hollowness in her voice which he did not
understand, but which cut him to the quick. He had killed love. He was
alone. He knew it. With a final effort he tried to moisten his parched
lips to answer. At last, in a husky voice, he managed to say, "Yes."

But with a