Frowning the least bit, Crane at length stretched out a lean, wrinkled hand toward one of a row of pearl-topped buttons set in the surface of the flat mahogany desk. Almost as he did so one of the telephones at his left tinkled lightly, and he lifted it swiftly. A brief conversation took place which smoothed miraculously the forehead of the Lumber Trust official. “Show them in at once, Banning,” he finished. Setting down the instrument, he leaned back, eyes fixed on the door with a touch almost of pleasurable anticipation in them. When presently it swung open to admit Bob Bainbridge, followed closely by Tweedy, Crane’s mouth tightened cruelly, and the sandy-fringed lids drooped a trifle. “And so,” he said at length, his lips curling, “you’ve come to crawl.” Bainbridge did not answer for a moment. He was busy settling down in the chair which had not been offered him, and in seeing that Tweedy did the same. Then he drew out a cigar case and, with elaborate courtesy, extended it to Crane. “No?” he murmured, as the latter declined with a brief gesture. “Given up smoking? Here, John.” When Tweedy had accepted, and his own weed was lighted, Bainbridge leaned comfortably back in his chair. “To crawl?” he repeated slowly, “Well, I don’t know about that. A fellow never likes to crawl if there’s another way out of a difficulty.” Crane’s eyes glinted. “Rest assured there isn’t,” he retorted crisply. “You’re in a hole. You haven’t a single resource left. Your credit’s no good.” “Oh, I don’t admit that,” put in Bob hastily. “Whether you admit it or not, it’s true,” retorted Crane, a note of cold, calculating triumph creeping into his voice. “You can’t bluff me. I’ve had a man looking up your affairs for some time, and I know what I’m talking about. Tweedy, here, has been breaking his neck all last week trying to borrow enough to meet your note of eight thousand which is due at noon to-morrow. That note”--he bent forward, and raised for an instant the oblong sheet of paper from his desk--“is here.” If he expected signs of surprise or consternation from Bainbridge he was disappointed. Bob simply crossed one leg over the other, and nodded. “So I understand,” he drawled. There was a briefest sort of pause, during which his dark eyes held the older man’s in thrall. Suddenly he arose. “You may as well hand it over now,” he said coolly, moving toward the desk. In a twinkling Crane had acted. With amazing agility he bent forward over the desk. A buzzer sounded. A drawer popped open. A second later he had snatched from it a revolver, which he leveled swiftly at Bob. Last of all, doors at either end of the office opened noiselessly to admit a pair of stalwart attendants. Bainbridge, pausing in the middle of the floor, surveyed these maneuvers with interest and frank amusement.