n that he was doing a prosperous business with
several buildings still in course of construction, and that his wife's
stepfather was a prominent banker.

McGowan and his friends were stupefied. One hope was left, and that was
Jack's promise that either he or Garry would be at the trustees' meeting
on Monday night.

Jack had not forgotten. Indeed nothing else filled his mind. There were
still three days in which to work. The shock of his friend's death,
tremendous as it was, had only roused him to a greater need of action.
The funeral was to take place on Sunday, but he had Saturday and Monday
left. What he intended to do for Garry and his career he must now do
for Garry's family and Garry's reputation. The obligation had really
increased, because Garry could no longer fight his battles himself;
nor was there a moment to lose. The slightest spark of suspicion would
kindle a flame of inquiry, and the roar of an investigation would
follow. McGowan had already voiced his own distrust of Garry's methods.
No matter what the cost, this money must be found before Monday night.

The secret of both the suicide and the defalcation was carefully guarded
from MacFarlane, who, with his daughter, went at once to Minott's house,
proffering his services to the stricken widow, but nothing was withheld
from Ruth. The serious financial obligations which Jack was about to
undertake would inevitably affect their two lives; greater, therefore,
than the loyalty he owed to the memory of his dead friend, was the
loyalty which he owed to the woman who was to be his wife, and from whom
he had promised to hide no secrets. Though he felt sure what her answer
would be, his heart gave a great bound of relief when she answered
impulsively, without a thought for herself or their future:

"You are right, dearest. These things make me love you more. You are so
splendid, Jack. And you never disappoint me. It is Garry's poor little
boy who must be protected. Everybody would pity the wife, but nobody
would pity the child. He will always be pointed at when he grows up.
Dear little tot! He lay in my arms so sweet and fresh this morning,
and put his baby hands upon my cheek, and looked so appealingly into my
face. Oh, Jack, we must help him. He has done nothing."

They were sitting together as she spoke, her head on his shoulder, her
fingers held tight in his strong, brown hand. She could get closer to
him in this position, she always told him: these hands