“Well, what are you going to do?” he queried.

But Langham did not answer at once.  He had turned and was looking from the window.  It was snowing now very hard, and twilight, under the edges of torn gray clouds was creeping over the Square; he could barely see the flickering lights in Archibald McBride’s dingy shop-windows.

“Give me a chance, Andy!” he said at last appealingly.

“To the end of the month, not a day more,” asserted Gilmore.

“Where am I to get such a sum in that time?  You know I can’t do it!”

“Don’t ask me, but turn to and get it, Marsh.  That’s your only hope.”

“By the first of the year perhaps,” urged Langham.

“No, get rid of the notion that I am going to let up on you, for I ain’t!  I’m going to squat on your trail until the money’s in my hand; otherwise I know damn well I won’t ever see a cent of it!  I ain’t your only creditor, but the one who hounds you hardest will see his money first, and I got you where I want you.”

“I can’t raise the money; what will you gain by ruining me?” demanded Langham.  He wished to impress this on Gilmore, and then he would propose as a compromise the few hundreds it would be possible to borrow from North.

“To get square with you, Marsh, will be worth something, and frankly, I ain’t sure that I ever expected to see any of that money, but as long as you stood my friend I was disposed to be easy on you.”

“I am still your friend.”

“Just about so-so, but you won’t keep Moxlow—­”

“I can’t!”

“Then I can’t see where your friendship comes in.”  Gilmore quitted his chair.

“Wait, Andy!” said Langham hastily.

“No use of any more talk, Marsh, I want my money!  Go dig it up.”

“Suppose, by straining every nerve, I can raise five hundred dollars by the end of the month—­”

“Oh, pay your grocer with that!”

Langham choked down his rage.  “You haven’t always been so contemptuous of such sums.”

“I’m feeling proud to-day, Marsh.  I’m going to treat myself to a few airs, and you can pat yourself on the back when you’ve dug up the money by the end of the month!  You’ll have done something to feel proud of, too.”

“Suppose we say a thousand,” urged Langham.

“Good old Marsh!  If you keep on raising yourself like this you’ll soon get to a figure where we can talk business!” Gilmore laughed.

“Perhaps I can raise a thousand dollars.  I don’t know why I should think I can, but I’m willing to try; I’m willing to say I’ll try—­”

Gilmore shook his head.

“I’ve told you what you got to do, Marsh, and I mean every damn word I say,—­understand that?  I’m going to have my money or I’m going to have the fun of smashing you.”

“Listen to me, Andy!” began Langham desperately.

“Why take me into your confidence?” asked the gambler coldly.