“What about her?” asked Murray shortly. “She has a claim against your company.” “Policy?” “Yes.” “Let’s see it.” “There will be time enough for that,” said Hinse in his most impressive tones, “when we have settled what is to be paid on it.” Hinse was so constituted morally that he could not possibly be frank and straightforward. “It is a policy for a thousand dollars on the life of her late husband, Thomas Moffat. He failed to pay some of the last premiums, but there is a value to it.” “Is there?” “There is. Will you look it up and see how the matter stands, or shall I take legal proceedings to force a settlement?” “Better sue,” said Murray. “Good day.” “You will regret this interview,” announced Hinse. “I regret it already,” returned Murray. Then, his professional instinct overcoming his dislike of the man, he added: “If premiums have not been paid, the policy may have lapsed, or it may be non-forfeitable. I must see the policy and know the details. I never heard of Thomas Moffat that I recall. Give me the facts.” “Ah,” said Hinse, settling himself comfortably in a chair, “I thought you would see the wisdom of being reasonable.” “Reasonable!” exploded Murray. “Damn it! I’m having trouble enough being patient. Who was he, where did he live, and when did he die?” There was something in the way this was said that led Hinse to change his tactics, and he partly explained the situation in a confidential way. Premiums had been paid on the policy for at least eight years, he said, but the widow had supposed that everything was forfeited when her husband failed to pay the later premiums: she knew nothing about cash surrender values or non-forfeitable clauses. “She’ll do what I say,” he said significantly in conclusion. “She’ll compromise for any figure that I say is right.” He waited for Murray to reach for this bait, but Murray was merely fighting an impulse to throw the man out of the office. “Oh, she will!” said Murray at last. “Well, you’ll talk more frankly than you have, if you want to do business with me. Where’s the proof of death and the proof of identity? Where’s the policy?” Hinse ignored the last question. He wished to find out certain things about that policy himself before he admitted that it had been destroyed, and he thought he was handling the matter with consummate skill. “There will be no trouble about the proof of death,” he said. “In fact, I have that with me. But Moffat and his family moved many times during the years that have elapsed since he stopped paying premiums, living in two or three different cities, and they were not always known to their neighbors.”