“Oh, yes, it can be made.”
“Then we’ll make it.”
“One moment,” said Mr. Chichester dryly. “I suppose you know that you have other property beside the fur business.”
“Have I?” said Loseis.
He handed her a sort of statement from amongst his papers. Loseis looked at it, and shook her head.
“I don’t understand it,” she said, passing it to Conacher.
As he studied it, Conacher’s face paled. “Good God!” he muttered. “According to this you are worth over a million dollars. . . . Oh, after what they have said about me, this is terrible!”
“You’ll have to make the best of it!” said Mr. Chichester with a dry twinkle.
Loseis showed a face of quaint distress. “My dear Paul,” she murmured, “I’m so sorry! So sorry! I didn’t know anything about it. It wasn’t my fault, was it!”