MRS. HOWARD:  Well, one man knew me.  Mohun, the man who played the magistrate.  He came East, too.  Three years ago he saw me one night with Tom in a theatre.  He followed us and found out where I lived.  The next morning he came to see me, and threatened to tell!  And, I was terrified, I lost my head and gave him money.  (Slowly.) And I have been giving him money ever since.

FALLON:  Helen!  You!  Fall for blackmail?  Why, that isn’t you.  You’re no coward!  You should have told the swine to go to Hell, and as soon as Tom came home, you should have told him the whole story.

MRS. HOWARD:  (Fiercely.) My story, yes!  But not a story Mohun threatens to tell!  In a week he had it all backed up with letters, telegrams, God knows what he didn’t make me out to be—­a vile, degraded creature.

FALLON:  And who’d have believed it?

MRS. HOWARD:  Everybody!  He proved it!  And my children.  He threatened to stop my children on the way to school and explain to them what kind of a woman their mother was.  So, I paid and paid and paid.  I robbed Tom, I robbed the children.  I cheated them of food, and clothes, I’ve seen Tom look almost ashamed of us.  And when I’d taken all I’d dared from Tom, I pretended I wanted to be more independent, and I learned typewriting, and needlework and decorating, and I worked at night, and when Tom was at the office—­to earn money—­to give to Mohun.  And each time he said it was the last, and each time he came back demanding more.  God knows what he does with it, he throws it away—­on drink, on women, opium.

FALLON:  Dope fiend, too, hey?

MRS. HOWARD:  He’s that, too; he’s everything that’s vile; inhuman, pitiless, degenerate.  Sometimes, I wonder why God lets him live.  (Her voice drops to a whisper.) Sometimes, I almost pray to God to let him die. (FALLON who already has determined to kill MOHUN, receives this speech with indifference, and continues grimly to puff on his cigar.) He’s killed my happiness, he’s killing me.  In keeping him alive, I’ve grown ill and old.  I see the children growing away from me, I see Tom drawing away from me.  And now, after all my struggles, after all my torture, Tom must be told.  Mohun is in some new trouble.  He must have a thousand dollars!  I can no more give him a thousand dollars than I can give him New York City.  But, if I don’t, he’ll tell! What am I to do?

FALLON:  (Unmoved.) When did you see this—­this thing last?

MRS. HOWARD:  This morning.  He’d read about you in the papers.  He knows I knew you in San Francisco.  He said you’d “struck it rich,” and that you’d give me the money. (Rises, and comes to him.) But, get this straight, Dick.  I didn’t come here for money.  I don’t want money.  I won’t take money.  I came to you because you are my best friend, and Tom’s best friend, and because I need a man’s brain, a man’s advice.