The gateman shouted “All aboard!”

The door began to close.

“Come,” she tugged at his sleeve.

They dodged in just in time.  Drummond followed.  They started across the wagonway to the opposite side of the slip.  He kept on the near side.  Constance swerved back again to the near side.  Drummond had been opposite them and they had now fallen in behind him.  He was now ahead, but going slowly.  Murray felt her pulling back on his arm.  With a little exclamation she dropped her purse, which contained a few coins.  She had contrived to open it, and the coins ran in every possible direction.  Drummond was now on the boat.

“All aboard,” growled the guard surlily.  “All aboard.”

“Go ahead, go ahead,” shouted Murray, trying to pick up the scattered change and scattering it the more.  At last he understood.  “Go ahead.  We’ll take the next boat.  Can’t you see the lady has dropped her purse?”

The gates closed.  The warning whistle blew, and the ferryboat, departed, bearing off Drummond alone.

Another cab toot them to the Riverside.  A new bond of experience had been established between them.  They dined quietly and as the lights grew mellow she told him more of her story than she had ever breathed to any other living soul.

As Murray listened he looked his admiration for the daring of the little woman opposite him at the table.

They drifted. ...

It was the day of the threatened exposure.  Curiously enough, Dodge felt no nervousness.  The understanding which he had reached or felt that he had reached with Constance made him rather eager than, otherwise to have the whole affair over with at once.

Drummond had been shut up for some time in the office of Beverley with Dumont, going over the report which the accountant had prepared and other matters—­He had come in without seeing either Constance or Murray, though they knew he must be nursing his chagrin over the episode of the night before.

“They are waiting to see you,” reported Constance to Dodge, half an hour later, after one of the office boys had been sent over as a formal messenger to their office.

“We are ready for them?” he asked, smiling at her.

Constance nodded.

“Then I shall go in.  Wait a moment.  When they have hurled their worst at me I shall call on you.  Have the stuff ready.”

There was no hesitation, no misgiving on the part of either, as he strode into Beverley’s office.  Constance had prepared the record which they had been working on, and for days had been momentarily expecting this crisis.  She felt that she was ready.

An ominous silence greeted Dodge as he entered.

“We have had experts on your books, Dodge,” began Beverley, clearing his throat, as Murray seated himself, waiting for them to speak first.

“I have seen that,” he replied dryly.

“They are fifty thousand dollars short,” shot out Dumont.