Jack continued his advance without answering until he had reached their side. Then with a "Good-evening, gentlemen," he said in a perfectly even voice:

"Mr. Minott is ill and can see no one. I have just left the doctor sitting beside his bed. If there is anything I can do for either of you I will do it with pleasure."

McGowan shoved his hat back on his forehead as if to give himself more air.

"That kind of guff won't go with me no longer," he snarled, his face growing redder every instant. "This ill business is played out. He promised me three nights ago he'd make out a certificate next day--you heard him say it--and I waited for him all the morning and he never showed up. And then he sneaks off to New York at daylight and stays away for two nights more, and then sneaks home again in the middle of the day when you don't expect him, and goes to bed and sends for the doctor.

How many kinds of a d.a.m.ned fool does he take me for? That work's been finished three weeks yesterday; the money is all in the bank to pay for it just as soon as he signs the check, and he don't sign it, and ye can't get him to sign it. Ain't that so, Jim Murphy?"

Murphy nodded, and McGowan blazed on: "If you want to know what I think about it--there's something crooked about the whole business, and it gets crookeder all the time. He's drunk, if he's anything--boiling drunk and--"

Jack laid the full weight of his hand on the speaker's shoulder:

"Stop short off where you are, Mr. McGowan." The voice came as if through tightly clenched teeth. "If you have any business that I can attend to I am here to do it, but you can't remain here and abuse Mr.

Minott. My purpose in coming downstairs was to help you if I could, but you must act like a man, not like a ruffian."

Murphy stepped quickly between the two men:

"Go easy, Mac," he cried in a conciliatory tone. "If the doctor's with him ye can't see him. Hear what Mr. Breen has to say; ye got to wait anyhow. Of course, Mr. Breen, Mr. McGowan is het up because the men is gettin' ugly, and he ain't got money enough for his next pay-roll, and the last one ain't all paid yit."

McGowan again shifted his hat--this time he canted it on one side. His companion's warning had had its effect, for his voice was now pitched in a lower key.

"There ain't no use talking pay-roll to Mr. Breen, Jim," he growled. "He knows what it is; he gits up agin' it once in a while himself. If he'll tell me just when I'm going to get my money I'll wait like any decent man would wait, but I want to know, and I want to know now."

At that instant the door of the sitting-room opened, and Corinne, shrinking as one in mortal fright, glided out and made a hurried escape upstairs. Murphy sagged back against the wall and waited respectfully for her to disappear. McGowan did not alter his position nor did he remove his hat, though he waited until she had reached the landing before speaking again:

"And now, what are you going to do, Mr. Breen?" he demanded in threatening tones.

"Nothing," said Jack in his same even voice, his eyes never moving from the contractor's. "Nothing, until you get into a different frame of mind." Then he turned to Murphy: "When Mr. McGowan removes his hat, Mr.

Murphy, and shows some sign of being a gentleman I will take you both into the next room and talk this matter over."

McGowan flushed scarlet and jerked his hat from his head.

"Well she come on me sudden like and I didn't see her till she'd got by.

Of course, if you've got anything to say, I'm here to listen, Where'll we go?"

Jack turned and led the way into the sitting-room, where he motioned them both to seats.

"And now what is the exact amount of your voucher?" he asked, when he had drawn up a chair and sat facing them.

McGowan fumbled in his inside pocket and drew forth a slip of paper.

"A little short of ten thousand dollars," he answered in a business-like tone of voice. "There's the figures," and he handed the slip to Jack.

"When is this payment to be made?" continued Jack, glancing at the slip.

"Why, when the money is due, of course," he cried in a louder key.

"Here's the contract--see--read it; then you'll know."

Jack ran his eye over the doc.u.ment until it fell on the payment clause.

This he read twice, weighing each word.

"It says at the monthly meeting of the Board of Trustees, does it not?"

he answered, smothering all trace of the relief the words brought him.

McGowan changed color. "Well, yes--but that ain't the way the payments has always been made," he stammered out.

"And if I am right, the meeting takes place on Monday next?" continued Jack in a decided tone, not noticing the interruption.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Well, then, Monday night, Mr. McGowan, either Mr., Minott or I will be on hand. You must excuse me now. Mrs. Minott wants me, I think," and he handed McGowan the contract and walked toward the door, where he stood listening. Something was happening upstairs.

McGowan and his friend looked at each other in silence. The commotion overhead only added to their discomfiture.

"Well, what do you think, Jim?" McGowan said at last in a subdued, baffled voice.

"Well, there ain't no use thinkin', Mac. If it's writ that way, it's writ that way; that's all there is to it--" and the two joined Jack who had stepped into the hall, his eyes up the stairway as if he was listening intensely.

"Then you say, Mr. Breen, that Mr. Minott will meet us at the Board meeting on Monday?"

Jack was about to reply when he caught sight of the doctor, his hand sliding rapidly down the stair-rail as he approached.

McGowan, fearing to be interrupted, repeated his question in a louder voice:

"Then you say I'll see Mr. Minott on Monday?"

The doctor crossed to Jack's side. He was breathing heavily, his lips quivering; he looked like a man who had received some sudden shock.

"Go up to Mrs. Minott," he gasped. "It's all over, Breen. He's dying. He took the whole bottle."

At this instant an agonizing shriek cut the air. It was the voice of Corinne.

CHAPTER XXVIII

No one suspected that the young architect had killed himself. Garry was known to have suffered from insomnia, and was supposed to have taken an overdose of chloral. The doctor so decided, and the doctor's word was law in such MATTERS, and so there was no coroner's inquest. Then again, it was also known that he was doing a prosperous business with several buildings still in course of construction, and that his wife's stepfather was a prominent banker.

McGowan and his friends were stupefied. One hope was left, and that was Jack's promise that either he or Garry would be at the trustees' meeting on Monday night.

Jack had not forgotten. Indeed nothing else filled his mind. There were still three days in which to work. The shock of his friend's death, tremendous as it was, had only roused him to a greater need of action.

The funeral was to take place on Sunday, but he had Sat.u.r.day and Monday left. What he intended to do for Garry and his career he must now do for Garry's family and Garry's reputation. The obligation had really increased, because Garry could no longer fight his battles himself; nor was there a moment to lose. The slightest spark of suspicion would kindle a flame of inquiry, and the roar of an investigation would follow. McGowan had already voiced his own distrust of Garry's methods.

No matter what the cost, this money must be found before Monday night.

The secret of both the suicide and the defalcation was carefully guarded from MacFarlane, who, with his daughter, went at once to Minott's house, proffering his services to the stricken widow, but nothing was withheld from Ruth. The serious financial obligations which Jack was about to undertake would inevitably affect their two lives; greater, therefore, than the loyalty he owed to the memory of his dead friend, was the loyalty which he owed to the woman who was to be his wife, and from whom he had promised to hide no secrets. Though he felt sure what her answer would be, his heart gave a great bound of relief when she answered impulsively, without a thought for herself or their future: