"I'm going from here to the _Gazette_ office. You know they do what I tell 'em over there. They'd like a little story about the aristocratic Wheaton family of Ohio. Porter's girl would like that for breakfast to-morrow morning." Wheaton hung between two inclinations, one to make terms with Margrave and assure his friendship at any hazard, the other to break with him, let the consequences be what they might. It is one of the impressive facts of human destiny that the frail barks among us are those which are sent into the least known seas. Great mariners have made charts and set warning lights, but the hidden reefs change hourly, and the great chartographer Experience cannot keep pace with them. "Hurry up," said Margrave impatiently; "this is my busy night and I can't wait on you. Dig it up." Wheaton's hand went slowly to his pocket. As he drew out his own certificate with nervous fingers, the certificate which Evelyn Porter had given him an hour before fell upon the table. "That's the right color," said Margrave, snatching the paper as Wheaton sprang forward to regain it. "Not that! not that! That isn't mine!" Margrave stepped back and swept the face of the certificate with his eyes. "Well, this does beat hell! I knew you stood next, Jim," he said insolently, "but I didn't know that you were on such confidential terms as all this. And you witnessed the signature. Gosh! How sweet and pretty it all is!" The paper exhaled the faint odor of sachet, and Margrave lifted it to his nostrils with a mockery of delight. "I must have that, Margrave. I will do anything, but I must have that---- You wouldn't----" Margrave watched him maliciously, thoroughly enjoying his terror. "How do you know I wouldn't? Give me the other one, Jim." Still Wheaton held his own certificate; he believed for a moment that he could trade the one for the other. "I'm not going to fool with you much longer, Jim; you either give me that certificate or I go to the _Gazette_ office as straight as I can walk. Just sign it in blank, the way the other one is. I'll witness it all right." Wheaton wrote while Margrave stood over him, holding ready a blotter which he applied to Wheaton's signature with unnecessary care. "I hope this won't cause you any inconvenience with the lady, but you're undoubtedly a fair liar and you can fix that all right, particularly"--with a chuckle--"if the old man cashes in." Wheaton followed Margrave's movements as if under a spell that he could not shake off. Margrave walked toward the door with an air of nonchalance, pulling on his gloves. "I haven't my check-book with me, Jim, but I'll settle for your stock and Miss Evelyn's, too, after I get things reorganized. It'll be worth more money then. Please give the young lady my compliments," with irritating suavity. He stopped, smoothing the backs of his gloves placidly. "That's all right, Jim, ain't it?" he asked mockingly.