On it stood a water color on which she had been working, trying to put into it some of the feeling which she would never have put into words for him.

On the walls of the apartment were pen and ink sketches, scores of little things which she had done for her own amusement.

She bit her lip as an idea flashed through her mind.
He shook his head again mournfully.
"Somewhere," she said slowly, "I have read that clever forgers use water colors and pen and ink like regular artists.

Think--think! Is there no way that we--that I could forge a check that would give us breathing space, perhaps rescue us ?" Carlton leaned over the table toward her, fascinated.

He placed both his hands on hers.