“I know nothing about that,” he cut in shortly and finally. “There is no use in bringing your story here.” She quailed before him. “But I have a right--the law----” “The law is yours to use. If you think it will help you, use it.” He rose, opened the door, and bowed her out. And she, baffled, humiliated, at the end of her resources, went out without a word, crossed the hall as steadily as any young stenographer, stepped into the elevator with a composed face, and out into the street--and all this while there was nothing to mark her out from a thousand other ill-dressed women; nothing to show that her hopes were gone; simply a plain woman on La Salle Street, quietly walking--where? Where could she walk now? Were there still depths to sound, or had she reached the bottom? “Mr. Babcock!” The junior partner came out from his own private office at the sound of his senior's voice. “You were saying,” said Mr. Bigelow, taking up the thread where they had laid it down, “that Higginson & Company have agreed to deliver the timber by the fourteenth. Now, of course, a blockade, to be effective, must be complete.” This was self-evident to Mr. Babcock. “And so long as these people are free to deliver lumber the blockade is not complete. What is your plan regarding this?” “The Michigan City people, as I said, are afraid of Higginson. But they will accept our price the minute we can show them that they're safe in doing it. They received a letter from Higginson's manager yesterday stating that the Higginson steamer, with the timber, will reach Michigan City on the night of the thirteenth or the morning of the fourteenth. That means that it will be ready for loading on the twelfth--to-morrow--and that the steamer will start the morning of the thirteenth. Now, it's not hard to imagine a delay that would keep the Higginson manager from getting the boat off in time. And if he fails to deliver, we are promised the order.” “How do you mean to do this?”