“I want to ask you something.” And Paul proceeded to tell him of the arrangement which he had entered into with Dan Tussock that morning. “Can some paper be drawn up,” he asked, “to give me control of his money? I don’t care much for the job, but somehow I feel as if I want to help him. He seems a good chap.” Dalton was extremely pessimistic about the whole matter. It was easy enough to draw up an instrument giving Paul control of Tussock’s money, but no man could be kept straight by anyone but himself. “I have tried it for five years, and I tell you it’s no good. The money part can be arranged, but it’s not a question of money. It’s a question of habit, of inclination, of will power.” “Come up and see him,” urged Paul. “No. I’ve no desire to see another wreck.” “Come. I would like you to draw up this agreement.” Reluctantly Dalton went with him. It was indeed a strange meeting. The three men spent the night exchanging their life stories and discussing the future. Paul led the way, giving them as much as he thought necessary of the story of his life. Dan Tussock followed. An orphan at an early age, he had been brought up in the school of hard knocks and hard work. He had made his own way since he was twelve years of age. He had developed a power of organisation and leadership among men, he had become a money maker, but uneducated and ignorant of the ways of the business world he had been a mark for sharps and sharks and, most of all, with no human ties and responsibilities to steady him, he had been the victim of his own passions, and now at fifty years of age he was a failure. Dalton’s story was different, but with a like ending. Born of a good Ontario family, after a distinguished university course he had become a student in theology. Gifted with brilliant social parts, a mis-step led him to abandon his theological studies and become a student in law. Again he registered a brilliant success, but again he became a victim of his social qualities. Five years ago he had found it necessary to sever his connection with the firm in Toronto in which he had held a junior partnership and had come to the West, resolved to make a new bid for success in the new country. He had obtained a junior position in the law firm of Gunning & Strong, and for a time did well, but discouragement and loneliness sapped the strength of his resistance, and for the past three years he had been steadily deteriorating until he had become a mere office clerk, “a sort of glorified office boy,” as he himself said, “and headed for hell. In want of a keeper too, begad!” he said, with a bitter laugh. “Better take me on too, Gaspard.”