right," said Johnny. "It's a bargain, then?"

"It's a bargain--confound it!" agreed Mr. Washer quite affably, now
that the struggle was over. "Where do we go?"

"To Mallard Tyne, the six original owners and myself will all take a
piece of your two and three-quarter millions."

"I ought to take a body-guard," grinned Washer; "but I'll chance it.
Come on."

While the foregoing was in progress Constance Joy was entertaining Paul
Gresham, who had the effrontery to drop in for lunch. Of course the
conversation turned to Johnny Gamble. Neither of them could avoid it.
They had reached the point where Gresham was angry and Constance was
enjoying herself.

"I have great faith in him," she was saying. "He has a wonderful
project under way just now."

"And he doesn't care who suffers by it," charged Gresham, furious that
she should be so well-informed. "You'll see that he'll involve
Courtney's property with some of his old debts."

Constance's eyes widened.

"Do you think so?" she inquired as quietly as possible.

"Of course he will. His creditors are certain to take advantage of this
immediately. I warned Courtney."

She hastily arose and went into the hall.

"Oh, Aunt Pattie!" she called up the stairs. "Mr. Gresham is here."
Then to Gresham: "You'll excuse me for a little while, won't you? Aunt
Pattie is coming down."

Five minutes after Johnny and Mr. Washer had gone, Constance Joy came
into Johnny's office with carefully concealed timidity. Her manner was
coldly gracious and self-possessed, and her toilet was perfect; but she
carried one ripped glove.

"Is Mr. Loring in?" she asked with perfect assurance and also with
suddenly accelerated dignity; for the stenographer was really quite
neat-looking--not pretty, you know, but neat.

"He has just gone out," replied the stenographer with tremendous
sweetness. Anybody could look pretty in expensive clothes like
Constance Joy's.

There was a moment's hesitation.

"Is Mr. Gamble in?"

The girl smiled quite brightly.

"Mr. Gamble has just gone out," she stated, and smiled again. She was
not at all pretty when she smiled--not by any means--neat, though.

"Could you tell me where I would be likely to find Mr. Loring?" asked
Constance stiffly.

"Haven't the slightest idea," answered the girl happily, and gave her
hair a touch. Ah! there was a rip under her sleeve!

"Do you know where Mr. Gamble has gone?" and Constance was suddenly
pleasant through and throu