iny office, and Mr. Archer was sitting beside her, and Henry
was standing at his desk, pawing over a heap of ledgers and
cash-books. To Anna, there was something commanding in his attitude,
something more of crest than she had ever seen in him, even during the
early period of his intrepid youth. And yet she could see, too, that
his hands were a trifle unsteady, and that his lips betrayed an
immense excitement.

"Mr. Archer," he said. "There's no use waiting until the first of the
year. Either we've made good by this time, or we never will. Here's
the books. They'll show a net profit, including Saturday's deposit, of
ten thousand five hundred."

Anna turned weak and faint, and she wanted to laugh and cry in the
same breath, but she gripped the arms of her chair, and clung fast to
what was left of her poise. If Henry had a miracle to report, Anna
must hear it.

"It's a matter of interpretation," he went on, with his voice shaking
for an instant. "And you're the interpreter. It came up so suddenly
last week that I couldn't get hold of you. But I took a chance,
anyway.... Does a lease count?"

The lawyer looked very sober. "A lease?"

"Yes. If I leased part of the theatre to somebody, would the income
from that count?"

During the resultant silence, Anna distinctly heard her own heart
beating. She looked at Mr. Archer, and saw that his brows were drawn
down, and that his eyes were distant. Fearfully, she hung on his
reply.

"That's a delicate question, Henry. You were supposed to make your
profit from the operation of the theatre."

Henry was tense. "I don't mean if I leased the _theatre_. I mean if I
leased some _part_ of it--some part that wouldn't interfere with the
show."

Anna closed her eyes. Mr. Archer's brows had risen to normal. "Why,
in that case, I should certainly say that the income would count,
Henry. Let's see the lease?"

Anna wished that Henry would come over to her, and hold her in his
arms while Mr. Archer, with maddening deliberation, glanced through
the long typewritten document--but Henry had turned his back, and was
gazing out of the window.

"Peter McClellan? What's _he_ want so much space for?"

Henry made no response. There was a long hiatus, broken only by the
rustling of the pages.

"Just a minute, Henry. Some of this is all right--and some isn't. The
space you mention is what you're using now for the--er--nursery, I
take it. And the privilege of the lessee to enlarge the upper