the dining-room--"had it
out--in there."

St. George compressed his lips. "And so Rutter holds the big end of the
whip after all, does he?" he exclaimed with some heat. "He will find the
skin on my back not a very valuable asset, but he is welcome to it. He
has about everything else."

"But I'd rather pay it somehow if we could," rejoined Pawson in a
furtive way--as if he had something up his sleeve he dare not spring
upon him.

"Yes--of course you would," retorted St. George with a cynical laugh,
slipping on his gloves. "Pay it?--of course pay it. Pay everything and
everybody! What do you think I'd bring at auction, Pawson? I'm white,
you know, and so I can't be sold on the block--but the doctors might
offer you a trifle for cutting-up purposes. Bah! Hand me my coat, Todd."

A deprecatory smile flitted across the long, thin face of the attorney.
He saw that St. George was in no mood for serious things, and yet
something must be done; certainly before the arrival of Gorsuch himself,
who was known to be an exact man of business and who would have his
rights, no matter who suffered.

"I had a little plan, sir--but you might not fall in with it. It would,
perhaps, be only temporary, but it is all I can think of. I had an
applicant this morning--in fact it came within an hour after I had heard
the news. It seemed almost providential, sir."

St. George was facing the door, ready to leave the house, his shoulders
still bent forward so that Todd could adjust his heavy cloak the better,
when for the first time the anxious tone in Pawson's voice caught his
attention. As the words fell from the attorney's lips he straightened,
and Todd stepped back, the garment still in the darky's hands.

"An applicant for what?" he inquired in a graver tone. He was not
surprised--nothing surprised him in these days--he was only curious.

"For the rooms you occupy. I can get enough for them, sir, not only to
clear up the back interest, but to keep the mortgage alive and--"

St. George's face paled as the full meaning of Pawson's proposal dawned
in his mind. That was the last thing he had expected.

"Turn me into the street, eh?" There was a note of pained surprise in
his voice.

"I don't want you to put it that way, sir." His heart really bled for
him--it was all he could do to control himself.

"How the devil else can I put it?"

"Well, I thought you might want to do a little shooting, sir."

"Shooting! What with? One of Gadgem