aid she. "I would not pay
it if I had the money."

"I was told to come to you," said the man. "It's your brother's account,
and he said you'd promised him the money time and again. If it ain't
paid we'll send for the furniture." And then he wanted to show it to
Wells, who waved him off in annoyance; and then he looked as though he
would like to interest the other occupant of the room in the matter, but
something about that gentleman's face as he arose and came forward
proved unsympathetic. "I'll send this bill in again on the 31st," said
Mr. Donnelly, "and if it ain't paid then----"

But the tall, brown-eyed, brown-moustached man was walking straight at
him, looking him through and through, and there would have been a
collision in the office had not Donnelly backed promptly out through the
door-way. This merely transferred the scene of it and involved a third
party, for there, just outside the ground-glass partition, ostensibly
hunting for a book in the revolving case and humming a lively tune, was
Elmendorf. Recoiling to avoid contact with the advancing Forrest, the
bill-collector backed into the listening tutor and bumped him up against
a table.

"Oh, beg pardon," said Elmendorf, as though in no wise aware who his
bumper might be, and then edged off towards the corridor beyond,
apparently desirous of escaping further connection with the affair. But
Forrest, even in the dim light of the anteroom, recognized him at a
glance. More and more, ever since the return from Europe, had he grown
to dislike and distrust the man. More than once had he seen an
expression on Miss Wallen's face when Wells happened to mention
Elmendorf that gave ground for the belief that she, too, had no pleasant
recollection of her erstwhile lodger; but never had she opened her lips
upon the subject. Indeed, bright and intelligent as was the girl when
she chose to talk, both Wells and Forrest had found that when she
preferred to be silent it was useless to question. But here, skulking in
the anteroom, where reading was out of the question, where, however, one
might easily hear what was going on in the private office, here was
Elmendorf again, and though Donnelly's foot-falls were audible to all as
he came pounding up the stairway and turned from the corridor into the
office rooms, not a sound of others had been heard. The main
stairway--that which led to the great reading-rooms of the library
proper--was on the southern front. Only those having b