MR SELFRIDGE had begun to take an interest in the proceedings. As the two men passed out he arose and asked:

“Have you reached a settlement, Mr. Meyer? Will the insurance be paid?”

“No,” roared the underwriter, in the ear of the puzzled old gentleman; while he slapped him vigorously on the back; “it will not be paid. You or I must have been ruined, Mr. Selfridge, and it has settled on you. I do not pay der Titan’s insurance — nor will der other insurers. On der contrary, as der collision clause in der policy is void with der rest, your company must reimburse me for der insurance which I must pay to der Royal Age owners — that is, unless our good friend here, Mr. Rowland, who was on der lookout at der time, will swear that her lights were out.”

“Not at all,” said Rowland. “Her lights were burning — look to the old gentleman,” be exclaimed. “Look out for him. Catch him!”

Mr. Selfridge was stumbling toward a chair. He grasped it, loosened his hold, and before anyone could reach him, fell to the floor, where be lay, with ashen lips and rolling eyes gasping convulsively.

Heart failure,” said Rowland, as he knelt by his side. “Send for a doctor.”

“Send for a doctor,” repeated Mr. Meyer through the door to his clerks; “and send for a carriage, quick. I don’t want him to die in der office.”

Captain Barry lifted the helpless figure to a couch, and they watched, while the convulsions grew easier, the breath shorter, and the lips from ashen gray to blue. Before a doctor or carriage had come, he had passed away.

“Sudden emotion of some kind,” said the doctor when he did arrive. “Violent emotion, too. Hear bad news?”

“Bad and good,” answered the underwriter. Good, in learning that this dear little girl was his granddaughter — bad, in learning that he was a ruined man. He was der heaviest stockholder in der Titan. One hundred thousand pounds, he owned, of der stock, all of which this poor, dear little child will not get.” Mr. Meyer looked sorrowful, as he patted Myra on the head.

Captain Barry beckoned to Rowland, who, slightly flushed, was standing by the still figure on the couch and watching the face of Mr. Meyer, on which annoyance, jubilation, and simulated shock could be seen in turn.

“Wait,” he said, as he turned to watch the doctor leave the room. “Is this so, Mr. Meyer,” he added to the underwriter, “that Mr. Selfridge owned Titan stock, and would have been ruined, had he lived, by the loss of the insurance money?”

“Yes, he would have been a poor man. He had invested his last farthing — one hundred thousand pounds. And if he had left any more it would be assessed to make good his share of what der company must pay for der Royal Age, which I also insured.”

“Was there a collision clause in the Titan’s policy?”

“Dere was.”

“And you took the risk, knowing that she was to run the Northern Lane at full speed through fog and snow?”

I did — so did others.

Then, Mr. Meyer, it remains for me to tell you that the insurance on the Titan will be paid, as well as any liabilities included in and specified by the collision clause in the policy. In short, I, the one man who can prevent it, refuse to testify.”

“What?”

Mr. Meyer grasped the back of a chair and, leaning over it, stared at Rowland.

“You will not testify? What you mean?”

“What I said; and I do not feel called upon to give you my reasons, Mr. Meyer.”

“My good friend,” said the underwriter, advancing with outstretched hands to Rowland, who backed away, and taking Myra by the hand, moved toward the door. Mr. Meyer sprang ahead, locked it and removed the key, and faced them.

“Oh, mine goot Gott,” he shouted, relapsing in his excitement into the more pronounced dialect of his race; “What I do to you, hey? Why you go pack on me, hey? Haf I not pay der doctor’s bill? Haf I not pay for der carriage? Haf I not treat you like one shentleman? Haf I not, hey? I sit you down in mine office and call you Mr. Rowland. Haf I not been one shentleman?”

“Open that door,” said Rowland, quietly.

“Yes, open it,” repeated Captain Barry, his puzzled face clearing at the prospect of action on his part. “Open it or I’ll kick it down.”

“But you, mine friend — heard der admission of der captain — of der drugging. One goot witness will do: two is petter. But you will swear, mine friend, you will not ruin me.”

“I stand by Rowland,” said the captain, grimly. “I don’t remember what was said, anyhow; got a blamed bad memory. Get away from that door.”

Grievous lamentation — weepings and wailings, and the most genuine gnashing of teeth — interspers............