ook his head. "You cannot find her." He said it
bitterly. "But you can tell me--sit down." He leaned forward. "Now, tell
me--everything--you know--about her."

The face of Achilles lighted. "She was a nice child," he said blithely.

The man smiled. "Yes--go on."

So the voice of Achilles was loosened and he told of Betty Harris--to
her father sitting absorbed and silent. The delight of her walk, her
little hands, the very tones of her voice were in his words.

And the big man listened with intent face. Once the telephone rang and
he stopped to take down something. "No clue," he said, "go on." And
Achilles's voice took up the story again.

His hands reached out in the words, quick gestures made a halo about
them, lips and smiles spoke, and ran the words to a laugh that made the
child's presence in the room.

The father listened dumbly. Then silence fell in the room and the clock
ticked.

And while the two men sat in silence, something came between them and
knit them. And when Achilles rose to go, the great man held out his
hand, simply. "You have helped me," he said.

"I help--yes--" said Achilles. Then he turned his head. A door across
the room had opened and a woman stood in it--looking at them.

XIII

EVERYONE MUST PAY

Achilles saw her, and moved forward swiftly. But she ignored him--her
eyes were on the short, square man seated at the table, and she came
to him, bending close. "You must pay, Phil," she said. The words held
themselves in her reddened eyes, and her fingers picked a little at the
lace on her dress... then they trembled and reached out to him.

"You _must_ pay!" she said hoarsely.

But the man did not stir.

The woman lifted her eyes and looked at Achilles. There was no
recognition in the glance--only a kind of impatience that he was there.
The Greek moved toward the door--but the great man stayed him. "Don't
go," he said. He reached up a hand to his wife, laying it on her
shoulder. "We can't pay, dearest," he said slowly.

Her open lips regarded him and the quick tears were in her eyes. She
brushed them back, and looked at him--"Let _me_ pay!" she said fiercely,
"I will give up--everything--and pay!" She had crouched to him, her
groping fingers on his arm.

Above her head the glances of the two men met.

Her husband bent to her, speaking very slowly... to a child.

"Listen, Louie--they might give her back to-day--if we paid... but they
would take her again--to-morrow--next