He had risen, and she too now rose. "Oh, you'll pay something," she said with a note of coaxing. "I'm not as high as I once was. Fifty dollars would help me a lot."
"Not a cent!"
"Twenty-five?"
"Not a cent, I said."
"Well, you'll wish you had!" she said vindictively, and turned and walked out of the office.
He dropped back into his chair. So he was going to be righted before the world!—at last! Vivid, thrilling dreams flashed through his brain—dreams of honour, of success, of love!... Then, slowly, his mind began to clear; he began to see the other results of Lillian Drew's disclosure. His five years would have been uselessly spent—lost. And the people of the Mission—Quick visions pictured the consequence to them.
He sprang up, holding fast to just one idea among all that confused his brain. He must stick to his old plan; the people must keep Morton. He must find Lillian Drew and silence her. But where find her? He had not asked her address, he had not even watched which direction she had gone. Perhaps even now she might be telling someone.
He seized his hat, and hurried from the room. As he came out upon the sidewalk, a tall woman who had been standing across the street, started over to meet him. At sight of her he stopped, and gave a great sigh of relief.
"You're looking for me, aren't you?" she asked, when she had come up.
"Yes."