the judge himself was burdened with debt. He might go to Mr. Linscott,
he might even try North. He could tell the latter the whole circumstance
and borrow a part of what was left of his small fortune; of course he
was in his debt as it was, but North would never think of that; he was a
man to share his last dollar with a friend.

He passed a shaking hand across his eyes. On every side the nightmare of
his obligations confronted him, for who was there that he could owe whom
he did not already owe? He was notorious for his inability to pay his
debts. This notoriety was hurting his professional standing, and now if
Gilmore carried out his threat he must look forward to the shame of a
public exposure. His very reputation for common honesty was at stake.

He wondered what men did in a crisis such as this. He wondered what
happened to them when they could do nothing more. Usually he was fertile
in expedients, but to-day his brain seemed wholly inert. He realized
only a certain dull terror of the future; the present eluded him
utterly.

He had never been over-scrupulous perhaps, he had always taken what he
pleased to call long chances, and it was in almost imperceptible
gradations that he had descended in the scale of honesty to the point
that had at last made possible these forgeries. Until now he had always
felt certain of himself and of his future; time was to bring him into
the presence of his dear desires, when he should have money to lift the
burden of debt, money to waste, money to scatter, money to spend for the
good things of life.

But he had made the fatal mistake of anticipating the success in which
he so firmly believed. Those notes--he dashed his hand before his face;