would like to be a philanthropist, in her own way, with her own
money. And she wishes to warn you that, unless you deliver up
what is due her, she will proceed against you."

Judge Gaylor was the first to answer.

"Mr. Winthrop," he said impressively, "I give you my word, there
is not one dollar due Miss Coates, except what Mr. Hallowell
pleases to give her. "

Miss Coates contradicted him sharply. "That is not so," she
said. She turned to her uncle, "You and my father," she
declared, "agreed in writing you would share the profits
always." Mr. Hallowell looked from his niece to his lawyer. The
lawyer, eyeing him apprehensively, nodded. With the patient
voice of one who tried to reason with an unreasonable child, Mr.
Hallowell began. "Helen," he said, "I have told you many times
there never was such an agreement. There was a verbal -- "

"And I repeat, I saw it," said Miss Coates.

"When?" asked Hallowell.

"I saw it first when I was fifteen," answered the young woman
steadily, "and two years later, before mother died, she showed
it to me again. It was with father's papers."

"Miss Coates," asked the Judge, "where is this agreement now?"

For a moment Miss Coates hesitated. Her dislike for Gaylor was