“I am powerless, Garry,” said Jack. “If I had the money you should have it. I have nothing but my salary and I have drawn only a little of that lately, so as to help out in starting the new work. I thought I had something in an ore bank my father left me, but it is valueless, I find. I suppose I could put some life in it if I would work it along the lines Uncle Arthur wants me to, but I can't and won't do that. Somehow, Garry, this stock business follows me everywhere. It drove me out of Uncle Arthur's office and house, although I never regretted that,--and now it hits you. I couldn't do anything to help Charlie Gilbert then and I can't do anything to help you now, unless you can think of some way. Is there any one that I can see except Uncle Arthur,--anybody I can talk to?” Garry shook his head. “I've done that, Jack. I've followed every lead, borrowed every dollar I could,--been turned down half a dozen times, but I kept on. Got it in the neck twice to-day from some fellows I thought would help push.” Jack started forward, a light breaking over his face. “I have it, Garry! Suppose that I go to Mr. Morris. I can talk to him, maybe, in a way you would not like to.” Garry lifted his head and sat erect. “No, by God!--you'll do nothing of the kind!” he cried, as he brought his fist down on the arm of his chair. “That man I love as I love nothing else in this world--wife--baby--nothing! I'll go under, but I'll never let him see me crawl. I'll be Garry Minott to him as long as I breathe. The same man he trusted,--the same man he loved,--for he does love me, and always did!” He hesitated and his voice broke, as if a sob clogged it. After a moment's struggle he went on: “I was a damned fool to leave him or I wouldn't be where I am. 'Garry,' he said to me that last day when he took me into his office and shut the door,--'Garry, stay on here a while longer; wait till next year. If it's more pay you want, fix it to suit yourself. I've got two boys coming along; they'll both be through the Beaux Arts in a year or so. I'm getting on and I'm getting tired. Stay on and go in with them.' And what did I do? Well, what's the use of talking?--you know it all.” Jack moved his chair and put his arm over his shoulder as a woman would have done. He had caught the break in his voice and knew how manfully he was struggling to keep up. “Garry, old man.” “Yes, Jack.” “If Mr. Morris thought that way, then, why won't he help you now? What's ten thousand to him?” “Nothing,--not a drop in the bucket! He'd begin drawing the check before I'd finished telling him what I wanted it for. I'm in a hole and don't know which way to turn, but when I think of what he's done for me I'll rot in hell before I'll take his money.” Again his voice had the old ring. “But, Garry,” insisted Jack, “if I can see Morris in the morning and lay the whole matter before him--”