It's due next week." "And it will gut you ?" asked Barclay.
The old man nodded and sighed.

Barclay limped carefully all over his "X," swinging himself on his heels at the turns; his mouth was hardening, and his eyes were fixed on the old man without blinking as he said: "General--that's got to come.

If it busts you--it will save us, and we can save you after.

That has just absolutely got to be paid, right on the dot." The old man could not have turned paler than he was when he entered the room, but he rose halfway in his chair and shook his leonine head, and then let his hands fall limply on his knees as he cried: "No--no, John--I can't.

I can't." Barclay put his hand on the back of the old man's chair, and he could feel the firm hard grip of the boy through his whole frame.