"I don't mean that," the old man broke in, tremulously. "You are very kind. I know you would help me, you show it in your face; but I don't want that sort of thing. It is--is my rights I'm after. I--I can't face my children after the way I acted. I simply trusted Mostyn with my all--my life's blood--don't you see? I remember when I was hesitating, and a neighbor had hinted that Mostyn was too high a flyer--going with fast women and the like--to be quite safe--I remember, I say, that the commandment 'Judge not that ye be not judged' came in my head, and I refused to listen to a word against him. But you see how it ended." "I wish I could help you," Saunders said again, "but I don't see what I can do." "I don't either." The old man sighed heavily as he got up. "Everybody tells me I am a fool to cry over spilt milk when even the law won't back me; but I'm getting close to the end, and somehow I can't put my mind on anything else." He laid his disengaged hand on Saunders's shoulder almost with the touch of a parent. "I'll say one thing more, and then I'm gone. You've done me good this morning--that is, _some_. I don't feel quite so--so hurt inside. It's because you offered to--to trust me. I won't forget that soon, Saunders, and I'm not going to come in here any more. If I have to see him I will meet him somewhere else. Good-by." Saunders watched the bent form shamble between the counters and desks and disappear. "Poor old chap!" he said. "The shame of his lack of judgment is killing him." Just then the door of Mostyn's office opened, and Mostyn himself came out. He paused over an electric adding-machine which was being manipulated by a clerk, gave it an idle glance, and then came on to his partner. "Albert says old Henderson was here talking to you," he said, coldly. "I suppose it's the old complaint?" "Yes," Saunders nodded, as he looked up. "I did what I could to pacify him; he is getting into a bad mental shape." "He seems to be growing worse and worse." Mostyn went on, irritably. "I heard he had actually threatened my life. I don't want to take steps to restrain him, but I'll have to if he keeps it up. I can't afford to have him slandering me on every street-corner as he is doing. Every business man knows I was not to blame in that deal. The courts settled that for good and all." Saunders made no comment. He fumbled a glass paper-weight with one hand and tugged at his brown mustache with the fingers of the other. Mostyn stared into his calm eyes impatiently. "What do you think I ought to do?" he finally asked. "I am in no position to say," Saunders answered, awkwardly. "It is a matter for you to decide. His condition is really pitiful. His family seem to be in actual need. Girls brought up as his daughters were brought up don't seem to know exactly how to make a living."