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 document 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