She flourished a check in his face.  “Oh, he can sign checks with his left hand,” she threw back, gayly.

“You mean you’ve spoken to him about the partnership and...”

“Of course not ... he wasn’t in any humor for that.”

“Well, then, what is this check for?”

She drew back a little.  “Why, it’s to help you out, of course.  Don’t you want it?”

He felt himself grow suddenly cold as he stood and watched her recoil momentarily from his two-edged glance.  “No!” he retorted.

She continued to back away from him.  He followed her retreat.

“I don’t think you quite get me, Helen,” he heard himself say, with icy sharpness.  “I wanted to see Hilmer myself!  I had a business proposition to put up to him.  I want co-operation—­not questionable charity!”

She flung back her head, but her voice lacked defiance as she said: 

“Was that meant as an insult?”

“No,” he returned, quietly, “as a warning.”

She stood silent, facing him with that clear, disarming gaze that she knew how to achieve so perfectly.  He felt a great yearning overwhelm him ... a desire to meet her halfway ... a vagrant displeasure at his ill-natured irritation.

“How is Mrs. Hilmer?” he asked, suddenly, as he reached for his hat.

She shrugged.  “There isn’t any change,” she replied, almost inaudibly.

“Shall I bring you anything from the apartment?”

“No...  I’ll go myself this afternoon and get some things together...  I need a little air, anyway.”  She followed him to the door.  “Then I understand you don’t want this?” she inquired, indicating the check in her hand.

His only answer was an incredulous stare.

“What excuse shall I make him?”

He put on his hat.  The flame of his displeasure had cooled, but he was still inflexible.  “None, so far as I am concerned.”

A retort died on her lips.  He could see that she was puzzled.

“Well, so long,” he ventured.

She drew herself up with the swift movement of one parrying a blow.

“So long!” she echoed, and the door closed sharply.

He went down the steps.  There was an air of finality in his retreat...  At the office he found a note from Brauer.

Your check has been returned to me...  I shall put it through the bank again to-morrow.

He crumpled the sheet of paper and dropped it into the waste basket. 
How much would Brauer dare? he wondered.

That night the friend who had first warned him against Kendrick met him on California Street.

“I see my prophecy came true, Fred,” he hazarded.  “Why didn’t you tell me that Brauer was your partner?...  By the way, I saw Kendrick and him going to lunch together to-day.  What’s the idea?”

Fred lifted his eyebrows and laughed a toneless reply.  What was the idea?  He wished he knew.