Paul Clifford sat at his ledger with a perplexed and anxious look.

It was near two o'clock and his note was in bank.

If he could not raise five hundred dollars by three o'clock, that note would be protested.
Money was exceedingly hard to raise, and he was about despairing.

Once he thought of applying to John Anderson, but he said to himself, "No, I will not touch his money, for it is the price of blood," for he did not wish to owe gratitude where he did not feel respect.

It was now five minutes past two o'clock and in less than an hour his note would be protested unless relief came from some unexpected quarter.
"Is Mr.Clifford in ?" said a full manly voice.