“But how dare he come here and try to force his—­”

“He will dare.  He cursed and went on dreadfully.  The door was shut, but Garry heard him.  Oh, Jack!—­what are we to do?”

“Don’t worry, Corinne; I’ll take care of Mr. McGowan.  I myself heard Garry tell him that he would attend to his payments in a few days, and he went away satisfied.”

“Yes, but McGowan says he has been to the bank and has also seen the Rector, and will stop at nothing.”

Jack’s fingers tightened and his lips came together.

“He will stop on that threshold,” he said in a low, determined voice, “and never pass it—­no matter what he wants.  I will go up and tell Garry so.”

“No, not yet—­wait,” she pleaded, in nervous twitching tones—­with pauses between each sentence.  “You must hear it all first.  Garry had not told me all when you were here two nights ago; he did not tell me until after you left.  Then I knelt down by his bed and put my arms around him and he told me everything—­about the people he had seen—­and—­McGowan—­everything.”  She ceased speaking and hid her eyes with the back of one hand as if to shut out some spectre, then she stumbled on.  “We took the early train for New York, and I waited until my stepfather was in his office and went into his private room.  It was Garry’s last hope.  He thought Mr. Breen would listen to me on account of mother.  I told him of our dreadful situation; how Garry must have ten thousand dollars, and must have it in twenty-four hours, to save us all from ruin.  Would you believe, Jack—­that he laughed and said it was an old story; that Garry had no business to be speculating; that he had told him a dozen times to keep out of the Street; that if Garry had any collaterals of any kind, he would loan him ten thousand dollars or any other sum, but that he had no good money to throw after bad.  I did all I could; I almost went down on my knees to him; I begged for myself and my mother, but he only kept saying—­’You go home, Corinne, and look after your baby—­women don’t understand these things.’  Oh, Jack!—­I could not believe that he was the same man who married my mother—­and he isn’t.  Every year he has grown harder and harder; he is a thousand times worse than when you lived with him.  Garry was waiting outside for me, and when I told him he turned as white as a sheet, and had to hold on to the iron railing for a moment.  It was all I could do to get him home.  If he sees Mr. McGowan now it will kill him; he can’t pay him and he must tell him so, and it will all come out.”

“But he will pay him, Corinne, when he gets well.”

There came a pause.  Then she said slowly as if each word was wrung from her heart: 

“There is no money.  Garry took the trust funds from the church.”

“No money, Corinne!  You don’t mean—­you can’t—­Oh!  My God!  Not Garry!  No—­not Garry!”

“Yes!  I mean it.  He expected to pay it back, but the people he is with in New York lied to him, and now it is all gone.”  There was no change in her voice.