"That's exactly what I do mean. Gabrielle has sold out her bunch of letters to Mr. Gonzale. And it appears from the chap's sly hints that unless I pay him ten thousand dollars before midnight, the best of those letters will be in to-morrow's _Mail_." "He's got his nerve--working a game like that," said Minot. "Nerve--not at all," replied Harrowby. "He's as safe as a child in its own nursery. He knows as well as anybody that the last thing I'd do would be to appeal to the police. Too much publicity down that road. Well?" "His price is a bit cheaper than Gabrielle's." "Yes, but not cheap enough. I'm broke, old boy. The governor and I are on very poor terms. Shouldn't think of appealing to him." "We might pawn Chain Lightning's Collar," Minot suggested. "Never! There must be some way--only three days before the wedding. We mustn't lose on the stretch, old boy." A pause. Minot sat glumly. "Have you no suggestion?" Harrowby asked anxiously. "I have not," said Minot, rising. "But I perceive clearly that it now devolves on little Dicky Minot to up and don his fighting armor once more." "Really, old boy, I'm sorry," said Harrowby. "I'm hoping things may quiet down a bit after a time." "So am I," replied Minot with feeling. "If they don't I can see nervous prostration and a hospital cot ahead for me. You stay here and study the marriage service--I'm going out on the broad highway again." He went down into the lobby and tore Jack Paddock away from the side of one of the Omaha beauties. Mr. Paddock was resplendent in evening clothes, and thoughtful, for on the morrow Mrs. Bruce was to give an important luncheon. "Jack," Minot said, "I'm going to confide in you. I'm going to tell you why I am in San Marco." "Unbare your secrets," Paddock answered. Crossing the quiet plaza Minot explained to his friend the matter of the insurance policy written by the romantic Jephson in New York. He told of how he had come south with the promise to his employer that Miss Cynthia Meyrick would change her mind only over his dead body. Incredulous exclamations broke from the flippant Paddock as he listened. "Knowing your love of humor," Minot said, "I hasten to add the crowning touch. The moment I saw Cynthia Meyrick I realized that if I couldn't marry her myself life would be an uninteresting blank forever after. Every time I've seen her since I've been surer of it. What's the answer, Jack?" Paddock whistled. "Delicious," he cried. "Pardon me--I'm speaking as a rank outsider. She is a charming girl. And you adore her! Bless my soul, how the plot does thicken! Why don't you resign, you idiot?" "My first idea. Tried it, and it wouldn't work. Besides, if I did resign, I couldn't stick around and queer Jephson's chances--even supposing she'd listen to my pleading, which she wouldn't."