“Nay, I’m glad enough it’s saved, if what you say is true,” Nancy said; but still without enthusiasm. “Was that what you went for? and—what about Baldwin?” The thought of his participation in the looked-for catastrophe had been slow to reach her, as the startled note in her voice evidenced. Inman laughed and lowered his voice still more. “Yes, that’s what I went for; but Baldwin mustn’t guess it. He thinks, and he’s got to go on thinking, that I went to pull _his_ chestnuts out o’ the fire; but he’ll have to be satisfied with fair words and promises. He’ll be pleased, you’ll see, with what I’ve done; or, anyway, _I_ shall see it, for he’ll none talk about it till we get into the office—but——” He said no more, and Nancy could not see the smile that curved about his lips: the grim smile of the fisherman who feels the line jerk and is confident that the hook has held. “But what——?” inquired Nancy. “I was thinking what a good motto that of his is—‘all for my-sen’”; said her husband grimly. “What do you think will happen to Uncle John?” Nancy inquired. “I can’t help being anxious about him. He’s always treated me well, and you too.” “Oh, he may pull through,” he replied indifferently. “There’s a thousand-to-one-chance, of course; and if he doesn’t I suppose he’ll make an arrangement with his creditors; they’re mostly widows and simple sort o’ folks with no fight in ’em, poor devils; folks that snapped at seven per cent. interest and asked no questions. Your uncle’ll be right enough. Let’s drop him now, and get to sleep; but remember you don’t know anything; _not anything_, if they try to pump you.” He turned over on his side and was breathing heavily in a few minutes; but Nancy lay awake for another hour at least, weighing the situation and balancing her love of money with sympathy for her aunt and cousin, and compassion for the poor investors who were to lose their savings. “My bit ’ud only be a drop in a bucket, anyhow,” she said to herself; and found some ease in the reflection; “I wonder what Maniwel ’ud think of it—and Jagger?” At breakfast Baldwin could not conceal his satisfaction at Inman’s prompt return; but muttered that what had to be said would keep, and went on with his meal, stealing a glance at his foreman’s face when he thought himself unobserved, as if he would read there the result of his mission. Inman, however, gave nothing away, though he followed promptly when his master rose and left the kitchen. “Well?” said Baldwin in the aggressive tone anxiety always put into his voice, when the office door closed upon them; “Have you wasted your journey, or were you as clever as you made out you’d be? Has he climbed down, or what?” His eyebrows stood out fiercely; but there was fear at the man’s heart, and Inman knew it and was pleased. “I don’t think it’s been altogether wasted,” he replied with studied hesitation, “though I could have liked to come back with an easier mind——”