"I don't know what you 'll think of me, Maurice," he said; "I have never
before been guilty of such criminal carelessness."

"Don't stop to accuse yourself. Our only hope in this matter lies in
prompt action. Where was the money?"

"In the oak cabinet and lying in the bureau drawer. Such a thing as a
theft seemed so foreign to this place that I was never very particular
about the box. But I did not know until I went to it to-night that the
last time I had opened it I had forgotten to take the key out. It all
flashed over me in a second when I saw it shining there. Even then I did
n't suspect anything. You don't know how I felt to open that cabinet and
find all my money gone. It 's awful."

"Don't worry. How much was there in all?"

"Nine hundred and eighty-six dollars, most of which, I am ashamed to
say, I had accepted from you."

"You have no right to talk that way, Frank; you know I do not begrudge a
cent you want. I have never felt that my father did quite right in
leaving me the bulk of the fortune; but we won't discuss that now. What
I want you to understand, though, is that the money is yours as well as
mine, and you are always welcome to it."

The artist shook his head. "No, Maurice," he said, "I can accept no
more from you. I have already used up all my own money and too much of
yours in this hopeless fight. I don't suppose I was ever cut out for an
artist, or I 'd have done something really notable in this time, and