letters for all
of us. You have denied yourself--worked hard, carried many burdens and
run great risks to become a millionaire. I too have denied myself, have
worked and struggled to make a home for the girl I cared for. You have
succeeded and you are happy. I can hold Edith's--I beg your pardon,
my wife's hand in mine and I am happy. I have no ambition to be a
millionaire. I was very ambitious to win my wife."

Scarlett Trent looked at him for a moment open mouthed and open-eyed.
Then he laughed outright and a chill load fell from the heart of the man
who for a moment had forgotten himself. The laugh was scornful perhaps,
but it was not angry.

"Well, you've shut me up," he declared. "You seem a poor sort of a
creature to me, but if you're content, it's no business of mine. Here
buy yourself an overcoat, and drink a glass of wine. I'm off!"

He rose from his seat and threw a bank-note over the table. The clerk
opened it and handed it back with a little start.

"I am much obliged to you, sir," he said humbly, "but you have made a
mistake. This note is for fifty pounds."

Trent glanced at it and held out his hand. Then he paused.

"Never mind," he said, with a short laugh, "I meant to give you a fiver,
but it don't make much odds. Only see that you buy some new clothes."

The clerk half closed his eyes and steadied himself by grasping the back
of a chair. There was a lump in his throat in earnest now.

"You--you mean it, sir?" he gasped. "I--I'm afraid I can't thank you!"

"Don't try, unless you want me to take it back," Trent said, strolling
to the sideboard. "Lord, how those City chaps can guzzle! Not a drop of
champagne left. Two unopened bottles though! Here, stick 'em in your bag
and take 'em to the missis, young man. I paid for the lot, so there's no
use leaving any. Now clear out as quick as you can. I'm off!"

"You will allow me, sir--"

Scarlett Trent closed the door with a slam and disappeared. The young
man passed him a few moments later as he stood on the steps of the hotel
lighting a cigar. He paused again, intent on stammering out some words
of thanks. Trent turned his back upon him coldly.

CHAPTER VIII

Trent, on leaving the hotel, turned for almost the first time in his
life westwards. For years the narrow alleys, the thronged streets, the
great buildings of the City had known him day by day, almost hour by
hour. Its roar and clamour, the strife of tongues and keen measuring
of wits