pin-on tie surge up and down upon the breast of her Jap silk blouse. She was pulling herself together, I knew, taking her courage in both hands. The door was opened by a weedy-looking youth of about eighteen. "Good morning, Mr. Chesterton. Hope I'm not late," Million greeted him in a sudden, loud, aggressive voice that I had never heard from her before; the voice of nervousness risen to panic. "I've come about that money of mine from my uncle in——" "Name, Miss, please?" said the weedy youth. "Nellie Mary Million——" "Miss Million," I amended. "We have an appointment with Mr. Chesterton." "Mr. Chesterton hasn't come yet," said the weedy youth. "Kindly take a seat in here." He went into the inner office. I sat down. Million, far too nervous to sit down, wandered about the waiting-room. "My, it doesn't half want cleaning in here," she remarked in a flurried whisper, looking about her. "Why, the boy hasn't even taken down yesterday's teacups. I wonder how often they get a woman in. Look at those cobwebs! A shaving-mirror—well, I never!" She breathed on it, polishing it with her black moirette reticule. "Some notice here about 'Courts,' Miss Beatrice. [Pg 25] Don't it make you feel as if you was in the dock? I wonder what they keep in this little corner-cupboard." [Pg 25] "The handcuffs, I expect. No, no, Million, you mustn't look at them." Here the weedy youth put in his head again. [Pg 26] [Pg 26] CHAPTER IV THE LAWYER'S DILEMMA "Step this way, please," he said. With an imploring "You go first, Miss," from the heiress we "stepped" into the inner office. It was a big, handsomely carpeted room, with leather chairs. Around the walls were shelves with black-japanned deed-boxes bearing white-lettered names. I saw little Million's eyes fly to these boxes. I know what she was wildly thinking—that one must be hers and must contain the million dollars of her new fortune. Beside the large cleared desk there was standing a fatherly looking old gentleman. He had white hair, a shrewd, humorous,
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