The Pauper of Park Lane. William Le Queux

millionaire placed his hand upon the young man’s shoulder and said:

      “Repeat those words.”

      Rolfe did so.

      “And you will not seek to inquire the reason of a request I may make to you, even though it may sound an extraordinary and perhaps mysterious one?”

      “I will act as you wish, without desiring to know your motives.”

      The great financier stood looking straight into his secretary’s eyes. He was deeply in earnest, for his very life now depended upon the other’s assent. How could he put the proposal to the man before him?

      “Then I take that as a promise, Rolfe,” he said at last. “You will not withdraw. You will swear to assist me at all hazards—to save me from these men.”

      “I swear.”

      “Good! Then to-day—nay, at this very hour—you must make what no doubt will be to you a great sacrifice.”

      “What do you mean?” asked Rolfe, quickly.

      “I mean,” the old man said, in a very slow distinct voice—“I mean that you must first sacrifice the honour of the woman you love—Maud Petrovitch.”

      “Maud Petrovitch!” he gasped, utterly mystified.

      “Yes,” he answered. “You have promised to save me—you have sworn to assist me, and the sacrifice is imperative! It is her honour—or my death!”