“Oh, that’s where the shoe pinches, is it?” he said good-humoredly. “Well, I don’t mind informing you that Barbara didn’t tell me a single thing about you—not at first. She’s a good little scout, Barbie is, and she saved your pride all right for you. She’d never have told me, I guess; but I taxed her with it, and, of course, she couldn’t deny it. Some girls would have snapped you up quick, with all your money and everything, and with me supposedly buried up in the Klondyke. But not Barbara. She’s worth while, that girl.” “Yes,” mused Jarvis, “she is—worth while.” “You wouldn’t catch me loafing around this dead and alive hole for many women,” David went on, drumming with his fingers on the edge of his chair. “As it is, I’ve had about all I can stand of it; and she won’t give in and marry me—won’t even wear my ring, till that client of yours—that peculiar, hard-to-get-along-with individual you’re representing—can be either bought off, or disposed of in some way. Naturally, neither of us want to be under obligations to—_you_!” he finished dramatically. “Does she—suppose that I——” David laughed again. “No,” he said. “Oh, no! Barbie isn’t gifted with a very keen imagination. She swallowed all you told her about that singular, out-of-town client of yours. She seems to have implicit faith in you.” A subtle lightning flash leaped from Jarvis’s eyes. “She’s quite right to trust me,” he said calmly. “I’ll be glad if you can do the same.” “Oh, come now, it’s too late for any more joking between us!” cried David roughly. “You can’t pull the wool over my eyes. You gave her that money, Jarvis, you know you did. And you did it just so as to tie her down. It’s a damned shame!” Jarvis had risen, and David sprang eagerly from his chair to face him. The two men were of equal height, and for an instant David’s boyish blue eyes strove to master Jarvis, glance to glance. Then he drew back, baffled, furious. “You aren’t going to stick to that cock-and-bull story a minute longer with me,” he blustered. “You know very well where the money came from!” Jarvis bowed ceremoniously. “Certainly I know,” he acknowledged. “Didn’t you give it to her?” “I shall not answer you.” “Well, you did, and I can prove it.” “How?” David sprang forward with a triumphant laugh and snatched a small object from the desk. “I have been sitting where I could look at your writing traps,” he exulted. “And I saw—this!” Jarvis appeared quite unmoved. “That is my seal,” he observed, “with my family crest. What of it?” “What of it?” shouted David. “Why, it’s the thing that was used to sign that damned contract. It’s proof positive. That’s what it is!” “My client,” said Jarvis coolly, “did not wish to use his own name. I suggested the seal. He used it—at my request.” “Well, you’re the man, anyway,” David retorted violently. “I insist that you release her—at once. Do you hear? At once!”