put the wedding through. I owe everything to him."
"Insuring a woman's mind," reflected George Harrowby. "Not a bad idea, Allan. Almost worthy of an American. Still—I could have insured you myself after a fashion—promised you a good job as manager of our new London branch in case the marriage fell through. However, your method is more original."
Allan Harrowby was slowly pacing the room. Suddenly he turned, and despite the fact that all obstacles were removed, he seemed a very much worried young man.
"George—Mr. Minot," he began, "I've a confession to make. It's about that policy." He stopped. "The old family trouble, George. We're gamblers to the bone—all of us. Last Friday night—at the Manhattan Club—I turned over that policy to Martin Wall to hold as security for a five thousand dollar loan."
"Why the devil did you do that?" Minot cried.
"Well" And Allan Harrowby was in his old state of helplessness again. "I wanted to save
