"Madam, if your process can only be applied to the city government of New York you will deserve a monument higher than the Statue of Liberty. But I'm afraid there's not enough ozone in the atmosphere." He had to call help to get her out, and then she only went after she got the loan of five dollars to tide her over the week. A theological student with an open hatchet face, from the western plains, on his way to Moody's school at Northfield, asked for money to get there. "I had a-plenty," he explained, "but I met a man who asked me to change a bill for him. He got the change, but I'm looking for him to get the bill. I don't know, to save my life, how he got away. I still have his umbrella that he asked me to hold." Gordon smiled and loaned him the money. "I don't ask you for any references. You are the real thing, my boy." A woman in mourning, whom he recognised immediately from her published pictures, asked him to champion the cause of her son, who was under sentence of death. Gordon readily recalled the case as a famous one. He had followed it with some care and was sure from the evidence that the young man was guilty. For a half hour she poured out her mother's soul to him in piteous accents. "My dear madam," he said at last, "I cannot possibly undertake such work." "Then who will save him? I've tramped the streets of New York for six months and appealed to every man of power. Your voice raised in protest against this shameful and unjust death will turn the tide of public opinion and save him. You can't refuse me!" "I must refuse," he answered firmly. She turned pale, and her mouth twitched nervously. He looked into her white face with a great pity and a feeling of horror swept his heart. The pathos and the agony of the tragedy filled him with strange foreboding. In his imagination he could hear the click of handcuffs on his own wrists and feel the steel of prison bars on his own hands as he peered through the grating toward the gate of Death. But he was firm in his refusal, and she left with words of bitterness and reproach. After a long procession of people, sick, and most of them out of work, he was surprised to see one of his own deacons approach with a look of dejection. "Why, Ludlow, what ails you?" "Sorry to trouble you, Pastor, but I've lost my place. You see, I'm more than fifty years old, and though I've worked for my firm twenty years, they laid me off for a younger man. I'm ruined unless I can get work. I've four people dependent on me. I've come to ask you to see the Manager of the new department store and get me a place. I've been there three times, but I can't get to the Manager." "I'll do it to-day, Deacon. Let me know when you need anything." After two hours of this work, he left, with Kate Ransom, for his round of visits. She looked at him as he started smilingly from the church. "And you have gone through with this every day for ten years?" "Of course."