He was a man of some social standing, with a large circle of friends; a sportsman, and with many interests outside the daily routine of his city life.

To him failure meant more than the loss of money; it would rob him of everything in life worth having.

The days to come had been emptied of all promise.
He had held himself stubbornly because he was a man, because he had strength enough to refuse to let his mind dwell upon the indignities and humiliation to come.

And here before him was possible salvation.
There was a price to be paid, of course, a risk to be run in making use even for an hour of this money.

Yet from the first he had known that he meant to do it.
Quite cool now, he opened his private safe, thrust the pocket-book into one of the drawers, and locked it up.