And then, as Haworth said nothing in the pause allotted to him, he went on in a loud and blatant tone: “It’s old man Cripps I’m talking about—the one you’ve been living with for the last three or four years until he died and left you all his money—an’ this place along with it, I suppose!” “I’m sorry,” Haworth murmured. And then, after a pause, “Did he know about you?” “Know about me!” Findlay turned back to the young woman with a bitter laugh. “That’s pretty neat now, isn’t it?... Why,” (to Haworth) “I lived here in the house with him all my life until just before you came along! _All my life by God!_” “And—you went away then?” “Well, I didn’t exactly—I didn’t so much——You ain’t kiddin’ me, are you? Didn’t he ever tell you about it?” Haworth shook his head slightly. “Well” (turning to his companion) “can you beat that? The old man was——Oh, I beg your pardon! This is my wife, Edith. Mr. Haworth—Mr. _Charles_ Haworth, I believe it is!” The girl—for she was only that—put out her hand timidly and Haworth took it. “Now we haven’t come here as beggars, Mr. Haworth. I said to Edith we’d never do a thing like that. Didn’t I say it?” turning to his girlish wife. She shook her head almost imperceptibly and glanced down in evident distress. “No, I should think not!” He, in a measure, answering for her. “Don’t run away with the idea we’re that kind! Never more mistaken in your life!” And Findlay went on, becoming rather loud about it. “Far from it! We’re not that sort! But I’ll say this much, Mr. Haworth,—that matters haven’t gone right with us for some little time. No, they haven’t, and that’s a fact! We’ve certainly been up against it at every turn of the cards and we’re pretty close to being up against it now.” Haworth’s eyes were steadily on Augustus as he talked. Only once did they shift for an instant to the girl. “Now I wouldn’t go to any stranger,” Findlay went on; “no, not even to an ordinary friend you know,—for—ah—for advice at such a time. But I lived here all my life, an’ owing to blind prejudice an’ slander—that’s what it was, Mr. Haworth—I lost out on the will. Everything went to you. God knows I don’t complain of that! But in a time of trouble like this it seems only proper and decent to come to you for advice.” Haworth spoke after a little pause. “Advice?” (Almost in a whisper). “Yes, Mr. Haworth, that’s what I want! I need some one to tell me what to do, for I don’t know which way to turn. Of course, if out of the fullness of your heart you can—help us a little—just till I get on my feet——” He broke off to give Haworth a chance to say something, but the young inventor did not speak. “Why it’s as bad as this, Mr. Haworth, though I hate like hell to tell you! We haven’t actually—we haven’t actually any idea where we’re going to sleep to-night! That’s God’s truth!” “There’s plenty of room here,” Haworth murmured in a low voice. “Why, but you——I—I’d no idea of such a——Edith dear, do you hear that?”