"I have not whetted it against you—it has been whetted on my heart. Go away, William, and leave me to myself." "I would if you were yourself, but you are not. There is something the matter with you." "I grant that." "And in it there is cause for alarm, both for you and for myself." "Now, please don’t allude to that again. My mind is perfectly sound, I tell you." "And so one dear to us often declared." The Judge got up. "I shall have to command you to leave this room." "Then, of course, I’ll go. Here comes your wife. Rachel, there is something radically wrong with John, and I advise you to send for the best physician in this town." *CHAPTER IX.* *HEARD A GONG IN THE ALLEY.* More than once during the night had Mrs. Elbridge looked in upon her husband, to urge upon him the necessity for rest. But he had told her that he had on hand the most important case that ever came to him, declared that the life of a man depended upon his meditation; a new point in law was involved, and it would be a crime to sleep until his work was done. The governor of the state had submitted the question to him. And thus had she been put off, having no cause to doubt him; but now she caught William’s alarm. "My dear," said the Judge, when she approached him, "it seems that both you and my brother are struggling hard to misunderstand me. You know that I have never deceived you—you know that I would tell you if there were anything wrong. It is true that the death of my brother Henry has shocked me greatly—" "But why don’t you tell William? He ought to know. And it is our duty to tell him." The old man, looking toward the door, held up his hand. "No, he must not be told—nor must anyone else. I have an object." "But, my dear, I don’t see—" "I know you don’t. And I cannot tell you—I can—can merely hint. It is a question of life insurance, and the company must not hear of his death till certain points are settled. William, as you know, while one of the best men in the world, has a slippery tongue. And, besides, he is in no condition now to hear bad news. It is a secret, but he is having trouble with his heart—under treatment. Let us wait till he is stronger." "But, dear, is that a cause why you should frown so at Howard, and treat him with such contempt?" He walked away from her, but she followed him and put her hand on his arm. They halted near the safe and stood in silence, he looking at the iron chest, she looking at him. The sound of a peddler’s gong came from the alley, and he sprang back from the safe and dropped heavily down upon a chair. Florence was heard talking to someone, and Mrs. Elbridge called her, and at this the old man brightened. Florence was his recourse, his safeguard, and when she came in he greeted her with something of his former heartiness. "Florence, they are worried about me. Tell them that they have no cause."