ger scheme on hand now on the same lines. And in
spite of it all the money grows! I can't get rid of it. The old man
chose his investments well, and many of our purely philanthropic schemes
are beginning to pay their way. It isn't that I care a fig about the
money, but you must try to make these things self-supporting, or you
injure the character of those who benefit by them. Now I've told you all
the truth, but don't let it go out of this room. You can consider
yourselves fellow-trustees with me, if you like. Show me an honest way
to use money for the real benefit of the world's unfortunates, and it's
yours as much as mine."

"It's magnificent," Franklin murmured.

"It's justice," Macheson answered. "The money was wrung from the poor,
and it goes back to them. Perhaps it's a saner distribution, for it's
the improvident and shiftless of the world who go to the money-lender."

There was a knock at the door. The hall-porter of the club in which they
were holding their informal meeting entered and addressed Macheson.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, "but there is a young man here who
wants to see you at once. He would not give his name, but he says that
his business is urgent."

"Where is he?" Macheson asked.

"In the smaller strangers' room, sir."

Macheson excused himself, and, crossing the hall, entered the barely
furnished apartment, on the left of the entrance. A young man was
walking up and down with fierce, restless movements. He was pale,
untidily dressed, and in his eyes there was a curious look of terror, as
though all the time he saw beyond the walls of the room things which
kept him breathless with fear. Macheson, pausing for a moment on the
threshold, failed on the instant to recognize him. Then he closed the
door and advanced into the room.

"Hurd!" he exclaimed. "What do you want? What is the matter?"

"Matter enough," Hurd declared wildly. "I have been a fool and a
blackguard. Those two got round me--the old man and his cursed step-son!
I must have been mad!"

"What have you done?" Macheson asked sharply.

"She treated me badly," Hurd continued, "made a fool of me before you,
and turned me away from Thorpe. I wanted to cry quits with her, and
those two got hold of me. Jean le Roi is her husband. She refused to see
him--to hear from him. Letty Foulton is there, and I have been allowed
to visit her. I knew the back way in, and I took Jean le Roi there--an
hour ago--and he is waiting in her roo