“I’d better think it over,” said Horace. “Give me, say, till Monday--that’s five days. And of course, if I do say yes, it will be understood that I am not to be bound to do anything of a shady character.” “Certainly; but you needn’t worry about that,” answered Tenney. “Everything will be as straight as a die. There will be nothing but a simple business transaction.” “What did you mean by saying that we should take some of the Minster money away? That had a queer sound.” “All business consists in getting other people’s money,” said the hardware merchant, sententiously. “Where do you suppose Steve Minster got his millions? Did you think he minted them? Didn’t every dollar pass through some other fellow’s pocket before it reached his? The only difference was that when it got into his pocket it stuck there. Everybody is looking out to get rich; and when a man succeeds, it only means that somebody else has got poor. That’s plain common-sense!” The conversation practically ended here. Mr. Tenney devoted some quarter of an hour to going severally over all the papers in the Minster box, but glancing through only those few which referred to the Thessaly Manufacturing Company. The proceeding seemed to Horace to be irregular, but he could not well refuse, and Tenney was not interrupted. When he had finished his task he shook hands with Horace with a novel cordiality, and it was not difficult to guess that the result of his search had pleased him. “You are sure those are all the papers Clarke left to be turned over?” he asked. Upon being assured in the affirmative his eyes emitted a glance which was like a flash of light, and his lip lifted in a smile of obvious elation. “There’s a fortune for both of us,” he said, jubilantly, as he unlocked the door, and shook hands again. When he had gone, Horace poured out another drink and sat down to meditate. CHAPTER XIX.--NO MESSAGE FOR MAMMA. Four days of anxious meditation did not help Horace Boyce to clear his mind, and on the fifth he determined upon a somewhat desperate step, in the hope that its issue would assist decision. His dilemma was simple enough in character. Two ways of acquiring a fortune lay before him. One was to marry Kate Minster; the other was to join the plot against her property and that of her family, which the subtile Tenney was darkly shaping. The misery of the situation was that he must decide at once which of the ways he would choose. In his elation at being selected as the legal adviser and agent of these millionnaire women, no such contingency as this had been foreseen. He had assumed that abundant time would be at his disposal, and he had said to himself that with time all things may be accomplished with all women. But this precious element of time had been harshly cut out of his plans, here at the very start. The few days reluctantly granted him had gone by, one by one, with cruel swiftness, and to-morrow would be Monday--and still his mind was not made up.