owered above the little
financier in a moment of instinctive hostility.

Bivens merely shrugged his shoulders and answered in measured, careful
tones:

"Then I suppose I'll have to fight you whether I wish it or not?"

"Yes, and you knew that before you came here to-night. Your generous
impulse for a settlement on my own terms is a shallow trick and it
comes too late. I'm not fighting my own battle merely. I'm fighting for
the people. You have heard that I am beginning a suit for damages
against your Company----"

Bivens laughed in spite of himself, bit his lips, and looked at the
doctor.

"I assure you I had heard nothing of such a suit, and now that I have
it does not even interest me."

"Then may I ask the real reason for this urgent call and request for a
compromise of our differences?"

"You may," was the cheerful response. "And I will answer frankly. I am
engaged to be married to Miss Nan Primrose. The wedding is to occur in
a few weeks. In some way she has learned of a possible conflict between
your interests and mine, and asked me to settle them."

"And, may I ask, why? I don't even know Miss Primrose!"

"A woman's whim, perhaps. Possibly because our mutual friend, Mr.
Stuart, lives in your home, and she feared to lose his friendship in
the conflict which might ensue."

The doctor was silent a moment and glared angrily at his visitor.

"Bivens, you're a liar," he cried in a sudden burst of rage.

The dark face flushed and the slim little hand began to tremble.

"I am your guest, Doctor----"

"I beg your pardon, I forgot myself."

"I assure you," the little financier continued smoothly, "that my
intentions were friendly and generous. My only desire was to help you
and make you rich."

Again the doctor's eyes blazed with wrath and he completely lost his
self-control.

"Damn you, have I asked for your help or patronage? Its offer is an
insult! I want you to remember, sir, that I picked you up out of the
streets of New York, ill, hungry, out of work, friendless, and gave you
your first job."

Bivens, breathing heavily, turned in silence and hurried to the door.
The doctor followed.

With his hand on the knob, the financier turned, his face black with
hate and slowly said:

"I'll make you live to regret this interview, Woodman!"

With a contemptuous grunt, the doctor closed the door.

CHAPTER VII

A VISION

When Stuart heard the door close and Bivens's step die away on the
pa