crossing the room, sat down before a handsome writing-table. When she
at last came back to the fire-place she was holding a cheque in her
hand. Eagerly the man reached out to receive it. But the woman waved
him back.

"Just a minute," she told him. "Before I give you this I want you to
promise upon your word of honour that you will never ask me for any
more money."

"I promise, madame," Grimsby replied, bowing, and placing his right
hand upon his heart in a dramatic manner. "I shall make myself as
scarce as I always do when my creditors are after me. What more can I
say?"

"And you will never breathe a word of this to anyone?"

"Trust me to keep the secret, madame, I shall not even tell my wife."

The woman was about to say something more, but a startled look came
into her eyes, as she turned apprehensively toward the door. Nervously
she thrust the cheque into the man's hand.

"Here, take this," she ordered, "and leave the house at once. Somebody
is coming."

Without a word Grimsby seized his hat, sped across the room, opened the
door and disappeared. Trembling violently, the woman sank down in the
chair and buried her face in her hands, a veritable picture of abject
misery and despair.