"No; and that's final. I was just on the point of drawing you a cheque for three-hundred; that's all my share of the profits of this concern, so far; and my note for the balance. I'll pay that up as soon as I'm able—and I'll work like a terrier until I do. But as for the rest of it, I'm through."
"Oh, you are?" Kellogg took a chair and tipped back, frowning gravely. "But what about your word to me?"
"Damn that," said Duncan without heat. "The word of honour of a man who'd stoop to a trick as vile as I have doesn't amount to a continental shinplaster. I'll rather be dishonoured by breaking it than by ruining a woman's life."
"Very well, if you feel that way about it," said Kellogg as coolly. "And you may keep your cheque and note: I wouldn't take them. You can pay me back when it's convenient—I don't care when. But what I want to know is what you mean to do?"
"I mean to do the only thing left to do. I'm going to shut up here and then see Lockwood and Josie and tell them the whole story."
"Hm," Kellogg reflected, quizzical. "You've got a pleasant little job ahead of you."
"I don't care about that: I deserve all that's coming to me. I owe Josie a duty. Why, it's awful, Harry, to trick a girl into caring for you and then to—to——"
"Break her heart?" Kellogg's tone was sardonic.
"That's what I meant."
"Don't flatter yourself, my boy. Josie Lockwood doesn't love you; she just set herself to win you because you're the best chance she's seen." Kellogg laughed quietly. "The system would have worked just as well if anyone else had tried it."