knees and out of his arms with unusual abruptness, and stood straight up before him, her eyes flashing, her cheeks white, her face set with determination, as if about to say something of grave importance. But a bell tinkled softly, and he reached for the desk telephone.

Paula drooped, and sighed inaudibly, and, as she went down the room and out the door, and as Bonbright stepped eagerly forward with the telegrams, she could hear the beginning of her husband’s conversation:

“No. It is impossible. He’s got to come through, or I’ll put him out of business. That gentleman’s agreement is all poppycock. If it were only that, of course he could break it. But I’ve got some mighty interesting correspondence that he’s forgotten about� . Yes, yes; it will clinch it in any court of law. I’ll