thus to me when
your head should be hanging in shame for trying to make such base use
of me and my courtesy and friendliness."

His arms dropped, and he lowered his head.

"I beg your pardon," he said humbly. "I'm not myself. I think I'm
going insane. PITY me!"

Pauline looked at him sadly. "I wish I had the right to. But--I
SYMPATHIZE, and I'm sorry--so sorry--to have to do this." A pause,
then--"Good afternoon, Mr. Culver." And she moved toward the door. At
the threshold she turned. "I must say one thing further--THE
CONVENTION MUST NOT BE PUT OFF. If it is adjourned to-morrow without
making nominations, I shall understand that you are getting the money
elsewhere. And--I shall be compelled to put such facts as I know in
the possession of--of those you came to injure." And she was gone.

Culver went to Merriweather's office and sent out for him and Larkin.
When they arrived he shut the doors and told them what had
happened--and in his manner there was not left a trace of the New
Yorker and ambassador condescending to westerners and underlings.
Larkin cursed; Merriweather gave no outward sign. Presently
Merriweather said: "Larkin, you must adjourn the convention over
to-morrow. Culver can go to Chicago and get back with the money by
to-morrow night."

"No use," groaned Culver. And he told them the last part of his talk
with Mrs. Dumont.

"She thought of that!" said Merriweather, and he looked the impartial
admiration of the connoisseur of cleverness.

"But she'd never carry out her threat--never in the world!" persisted
Larkin.

"If you had seen her when she said it, and if you'd known her as long
as I have, you wouldn't say that," replied Culver. "We must try to get
the money here, right away--at the banks."

"All shut," said Merriweather "I wonder how much cash there is at the
Woolens and the Oil and Steel offices? We must get together as much as
we can--quietly." And he rapidly outlined a program that put all three
at work within fifteen minutes. They met again at seven. Culver had
twenty-six hundred dollars, Larkin thirty-one hundred, Merriweather,
who had kept for himself the most difficult task, had only twelve
hundred.

"Sixty-nine hundred," said Merriweather, eying the heap, of paper in
packages and silver in bags.

"Better than nothing," suggested Culver, with a pitiful attempt to be
hopeful.

Merriweather shrugged his shoulders. "Let's get some supper," he said
to Culver.