“God help me, Squire,” he wailed. “No, God cannot help me. But you can. I am in awful trouble, Squire Look--awful! But it mustn’t be exposed now, it mustn’t. If I can only tide it over this town meeting I can work out of it. We got caught on the wrong side, King and I. It happened that way right along until I knew it was wrong for us to work at arm’s length from the market. But now that King is up there where he can study things, we’re coming out all right. We can’t help coming out all right. I have sat up night after night for weeks, Squire, and figured. I haven’t slept for weeks and weeks. I have raked and scraped together all I could and now we are going to win. King has it in his hands. It’s going to win, I tell you! Only help me to tide it over this town meeting, Squire. It was a mistake going into it. I realise it now. But I had to stay in. I was tied up with King. But this time we are going to win. We can’t help winning. Here’s King’s letter explaining the last deal.” He tore at the breast of his frock coat and pulled out a crumpled envelope. “Oh, it’s got to come out right now,” the old man mumbled on appealingly. “I have sat up nights at my desk till my eyes were almost burned out, planning and figuring. Here’s the letter, Squire. I’m going to be honest with you at last. You can help me. You’ve got to help me!” His trembling fingers pulled the letter from the envelope, but the lawyer motioned it back. “Excuse me, Judge,” he said, “but I don’t want to touch it. I’d rather take hold of an adder from Watson’s bog. There’s less poison in the adder. He has poisoned you through and through, Judge. I know more of King Bradish in New York than you do. I----” “It’s your brother that has come back and lied about him!” cried the old man with reviving passion. “It’s all lies! Lies!” “I say that I know about King Bradish,” pursued the lawyer with the calm, dispassionate tone of utter conviction. “He has become a rake, a spendthrift and a drunkard. He was all three when he lived here, but he hid his passions. He ran away because he had stolen from you and was afraid to face your ruin. He has thrown away the money you have sent to him. You have nothing to hope from him, Judge. If I am cruel I am at least honest, for now is the time for honesty. You are in an awful position. Glossing over the situation cannot help you.” He looked with pity into the gray face of the village magnate, for he never saw anguish drawn in more agonising lines on the human countenance. Then the face puckered with the sudden emotion of an old man, wearied, driven to his last ditch and become a child again. He wept weakly, and the lawyer sat back in his chair and watched him without a word, his brows knitted in thought. At last the old man rose and gathered his shawl about his neck. With a pitiful attempt he had regained some of the old-time dignity.