"My daughter says you want to see me," Henderson blurted out. "Well, you are welcome to the sight. You've dodged _me_ often enough lately. Do you know what I tried to see you about the other day when I was there? It wasn't to get money, for I've given that up long, long ago. I wanted to tell you that I spend my days now thanking both God and the devil for the plight you are in at last. I believe prayers are answered--you bet I do--you bet, you bet! I've prayed to have you hit below the belt, and it has come in good measure. I see from the way you look that you feel it. Ah, ha! you know now, don't you, how it feels to squirm under public scorn and lose something you hold dear? They tell me old Mitchell sees through you and is leaving all he's got to Virginia kin. The dying of your child knocked all that into a cocked hat--your own child, think of that! I've laughed till I was sick over it. First one report come, then another, till your three staggering, knock-out blows was made public. I don't know how true it is"--Henderson wrung his talon-like hands together tightly--"but business men say there isn't much left of your private funds." "Hardly anything now, Mr. Henderson," Mostyn answered. "Now that I have decided to--" "Ah! _that_ is true, then!" Henderson ran on, with a sly chuckle. "It is reported that Delbridge, the feller you started out to race against so big, has swiped the bank presidency right from under your nose, nabbed the cream of the business, and put it on a respectable footing." "That is all true," Mostyn admitted. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he drew out the check he had written. It fluttered in the air, for he held it unsteadily. "Here is something for you," he said. "It is late coming, Mr. Henderson, but it is yours. You will find it all right." "Mine?" The old man's limp hands hung down his sides. He saw the extended check, but failed to understand. He gazed at the quivering slip, his rigid lips dripping, his eyes filled with groping suspicion. "Yes, it is yours," Mostyn said. "I've been long getting to it, but I am now bent on making restitution as far as possible. I can never wipe out the trouble I've put you to during all these years, but this may help. If you had held your interest in that factory as I held mine it would have been worth one hundred thousand dollars to-day." "I know it--I know it--what the hell--" Henderson stared first at the check and then at Mostyn. "What do you mean by coming to me at this late--" "It is my check for a hundred thousand dollars, payable to you," Mostyn answered. "The money is yours. You may draw it any time you like." Henderson's hand shot out. The long-nailed fingers grasped the slip of paper and bore it to his eyes. He stared; he blinked; he quivered. A light flared up in his face and died. "You don't mean it; it is another one of your damned tricks," he gasped. "You can't mean that I am to have--"