Bah! Hand me my coat, Todd." A deprecatory smile flitted across the long, thin face of the attorney.
He saw that St.George was in no mood for serious things, and yet something must be done; certainly before the arrival of Gorsuch himself, who was known to be an exact man of business and who would have his rights, no matter who suffered.
"I had a little plan, sir--but you might not fall in with it.

It would, perhaps, be only temporary, but it is all I can think of.

I had an applicant this morning--in fact it came within an hour after I had heard the news.

It seemed almost providential, sir." St.George was facing the door, ready to leave the house, his shoulders still bent forward so that Todd could adjust his heavy cloak the better, when for the first time the anxious tone in Pawson's voice caught his attention.

As the words fell from the attorney's lips he straightened, and Todd stepped back, the garment still in the darky's hands.
"An applicant for what ?" he inquired in a graver tone.