suddenly the air of the room seemed to stifle him, courage and cunning
had left him; there was only North to whom he could turn for a few
hundreds with which to quiet Gilmore. Let him but escape the
consequences of his folly this time and he promised himself he would
retrench; he would live within his income, he would apply himself to his
profession as he had never yet applied himself. He scowled heavily at
Gilmore, who met his scowl with a cynical smile.

"Well, what are you going to do?" he queried.

But Langham did not answer at once. He had turned and was looking from
the window. It was snowing now very hard, and twilight, under the edges
of torn gray clouds was creeping over the Square; he could barely see
the flickering lights in Archibald McBride's dingy shop-windows.

"Give me a chance, Andy!" he said at last appealingly.

"To the end of the month, not a day more," asserted Gilmore.

"Where am I to get such a sum in that time? You know I can't do it!"

"Don't ask me, but turn to and get it, Marsh. That's your only hope."

"By the first of the year perhaps," urged Langham.

"No, get rid of the notion that I am going to let up on you, for I
ain't! I'm going to squat on your trail until the money's in my hand;
otherwise I know damn well I won't ever see a cent of it! I ain't your
only creditor, but the one who hounds you hardest will see his money
first, and I got you where I want you."