“You surely are not a criminal,” he whispered. “That man——” “Never mind that man. Our ten minutes are fast flying by and you do not yet seem to see that I cannot afford to relinquish my hold on Polly.” “Do you mean that your debts——” “Were incurred in private? Certainly, and under circumstances which place me in a dilemma of no very pleasing nature. If they are not all paid by the first of next month, I shall have to subject my very conscientious little daughter to the obloquy of visiting her father in prison. It is a shame, but such is the injustice of men.” “You have stolen then?” “Too harsh a word, Clarke. I have borrowed money for the purpose of perfecting my experiments. The experiments have failed, and the money—well, the man from whom I borrowed it will have it, that is all. He is strict in his views, notwithstanding his long forbearance.” “Who is this man? I should like to talk to him. That fellow behind you is surely not he?” “Oh, no; he is only a detective.” “A detective!” “Who likes my table and bed so well he never knows when he has had enough of either.” “Shameful!” sprang from Clarke’s set lips, as his eyes flew first to the watchful but nonchalant figure in the hall, and then to the tall, commanding form of the man who could accept his degrading situation with such an air of mingled sarcasm and resignation. “And you are the man to whom the French government sent her badge of honor!” “The same, Clarke,” tapping his breast. “And you dare to call Polly your child; dare to return to Hamilton with this disgrace upon you, to make her life a hell and——” “Maida is my child; and as for this disgrace, as you call it, it will be easy enough for her to elude that; a certain check drawn on her bank and signed by her name will do it.” “I should like to be sure of that,” returned Clarke, springing back into the hall and confronting the man who stood there. “If you are a detective,” said he, “you are here in the interest of the man whom Mr. Earle has robbed?” The slight young man, in no wise disconcerted, smiled politely, but with an air of quiet astonishment directed mainly toward Ephraim Earle. “I am here in the interest of Brown, Shepherd, & Co., certainly,” said he. “But I have uttered no such word as robbed, nor will, unless the first of the month shows Mr. Earle’s indebtedness to them unpaid.” “I see. In what city does Brown, Shepherd, & Co. do business?” “In New York, sir.” “Merchants, lawyers, bankers, or what?” “Bankers.” “Oh, I remember; in Nassau street?” “Just so.” Mr. Earle, who had taken up a cigar from his table while this short colloquy took place, stepped forward. “A very strict firm, thorough, and not much given to showing mercy, eh?” “Not much,” smiled the man. “You see!” gesticulated Mr. Earle, turning to Clarke with a significant smile. Clarke, with a sudden heartsick sense of what this all meant to him, assumed a stern air.