[Photo, from the play, of Shirley appealing to Mr. Ryder]

 "Go to Washington and save my father's life. "--Act III. _Frontispiece. _

THE LION AND THE MOUSE

BY

CHARLES KLEIN

A Story _of_ American Life

NOVELIZED FROM THE PLAY BY

ARTHUR HORNBLOW

 "Judges and Senators have been bought for gold; Love and esteem have never been sold. "--POPE

 * * * * *

ILLUSTRATED BY

STUART TRAVIS

AND

SCENES FROM THE PLAY

 * * * * *

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS--NEW YORK

G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY

_Entered at Stationers' Hall, London_

Issued August, 1906

CONTENTS

 Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI

_The Lion and the Mouse_

CHAPTER I

There was unwonted bustle in the usually sleepy and dignified NewYork offices of the Southern and Transcontinental Railroad Companyin lower Broadway. The supercilious, well-groomed clerks who, onordinary days, are far too preoccupied with their own personalaffairs to betray the slightest interest in anything notimmediately concerning them, now condescended to bestir themselvesand, gathered in little groups, conversed in subdued, eager tones. The slim, nervous fingers of half a dozen haughty stenographers, representing as many different types of business femininity, werebusily rattling the keys of clicking typewriters, each of theirowners intent on reducing with all possible despatch the mass ofletters which lay piled up in front of her. Through the heavyplate-glass swinging doors, leading to the elevators and thence tothe street, came and went an army of messengers and telegraphboys, noisy and insolent. 

Through the open windows the hoarse shouting of news-venders, therushing of elevated trains, the clanging of street cars, with theoccasional feverish dash of an ambulance--all these familiarnoises of a great city had the far-away sound peculiar to topfloors of the modern sky-scraper. The day was warm and sticky, asis not uncommon in early May, and the overcast sky and a distantrumbling of thunder promised rain before night. 

The big express elevators, running smoothly and swiftly, unloadedevery few moments a number of prosperous-looking men who, chattingvolubly and affably, made their way immediately through the outeroffices towards another and larger inner office on the glass doorof which was the legend "Directors Room. Private. " Each comer gavea patronizing nod in recognition of the deferential salutation ofthe clerks. Earlier arrivals had preceded them, and as they openedthe door there issued from the Directors Room a confused murmur ofvoices, each different in pitch and tone, some deep anddeliberate, others shrill and nervous, but all talking earnestlyand with animation as men do when the subject under discussion isof common interest. Now and again a voice was heard high above theothers, denoting anger in the speaker, followed by the pleadingaccents of the peace-maker, who was arguing his irate colleagueinto calmness. At intervals the door opened to admit otherarrivals, and through the crack was caught a glimpse of a dozendirectors, some seated, some standing near a long table coveredwith green baize. 

It was the regular quarterly meeting of the directors of theSouthern and Transcontinental Railroad Company, but it was somethingmore than mere routine that had called out a quorum of such strengthand which made to-day's gathering one of extraordinary importancein the history of the road. That the business on hand was of thegreatest significance was easily to be inferred from the concernedand anxious expression on the directors' faces and the eagernessof the employés as they plied each other with questions. 

"Suppose the injunction is sustained?" asked a clerk in a whisper. "Is not the road rich enough to bear the loss?"

The man he addressed turned impatiently to the questioner:

"That's all you know about railroading. Don't you understand thatthis suit we have lost will be the entering wedge for hundreds ofothers. The very existence of the road may be at stake. Andbetween you and me, " he added in a lower key, "with Judge Rossmoreon the bench we never stood much show. It's Judge Rossmore thatscares 'em, not the injunction. They've found it easy to corruptmost of the Supreme Court judges, but Judge Rossmore is one toomany for them. You could no more bribe him than you could havebribed Abraham Lincoln. "

"But the newspapers say that he, too, has been caught accepting$50, 000 worth of stock for that decision he rendered in the GreatNorthwestern case. "

"Lies! All those stories are lies, " replied the otheremphatically. Then looking cautiously around to make sure no oneoverheard he added contemptuously, "The big interests fear him, and they're inventing these lies to try and injure him. They mightas well try to blow up Gibraltar. The fact is the public isseriously aroused this time and the railroads are in a panic. "

It was true. The railroad, which heretofore had considered itselfsuperior to law, had found itself checked in its career ofoutlawry and oppression. The railroad, this modern octopus ofsteam and steel which stretches its greedy tentacles out over theland, had at last been brought to book. 

At first, when the country was in the earlier stages of itsdevelopment, the railroad appeared in the guise of a publicbenefactor. It brought to the markets of the East the produce ofthe South and West. It opened up new and inaccessible territoryand made oases of waste places. It brought to the city coal, lumber, food and other prime necessaries of life, taking back tothe farmer and the woodsman in exchange, clothes and othermanufactured goods. Thus, little by little, the railroad wormeditself into the affections of the people and gradually became anindispensable part of the life it had itself created. Tear up therailroad and life itself is extinguished. 

So when the railroad found it could not be dispensed with, it grewdissatisfied with the size of its earnings. Legitimate profitswere not enough. Its directors cried out for bigger dividends, andfrom then on the railroad became a conscienceless tyrant, fawningon those it feared and crushing without mercy those who weredefenceless. It raised its rates for hauling freight, discriminatingagainst certain localities without reason or justice, and favouringother points where its own interests lay. By corrupting governmentofficials and other unlawful methods it appropriated lands, andthere was no escape from its exactions and brigandage. Otherroads were built, and for a brief period there was held out thehope of relief that invariably comes from honest competition. Butthe railroad either absorbed its rivals or pooled interests withthem, and thereafter there were several masters instead of one. 

Soon the railroads began to war among themselves, and in a madscramble to secure business at any price they cut each other'srates and unlawfully entered into secret compacts with certain bigshippers, permitting the latter to enjoy lower freight rates thantheir competitors. The smaller shippers were soon crushed out ofexistence in this way. Competition was throttled and prices wentup, making the railroad barons richer and the people poorer. Thatwas the beginning of the giant Trusts, the greatest evil Americancivilization has yet produced, and one which, unless checked, willinevitably drag this country into the throes of civil strife. 

From out this quagmire of corruption and rascality emerged theColossus, a man so stupendously rich and with such unlimitedpowers for evil that the world has never looked upon his like. Thefamous Croesus, whose fortune was estimated at only eight millionsin our money, was a pauper compared with John Burkett Ryder, whoseholdings no man could count, but which were approximatelyestimated at a thousand millions of dollars. The railroads hadcreated the Trust, the ogre of corporate greed, of which Ryder wasthe incarnation, and in time the Trust became master of therailroads, which after all seemed but retributive justice. 

John Burkett Ryder, the richest man in the world--the man whosename had spread to the farthest corners of the earth because ofhis wealth, and whose money, instead of being a blessing, promisedto become not only a curse to himself but a source of dire perilto all mankind--was a genius born of the railroad age. No otherage could have brought him forth; his peculiar talents fittedexactly the conditions of his time. Attracted early in life to thenewly discovered oil fields of Pennsylvania, he became a dealer inthe raw product and later a refiner, acquiring with capital, laboriously saved, first one refinery, then another. The railroadswere cutting each other's throats to secure the freight businessof the oil men, and John Burkett Ryder saw his opportunity. Hemade secret overtures to the road, guaranteeing a vast amount ofbusiness if he could get exceptionally low rates, and the illegalcompact was made. His competitors, undersold in the market, stoodno chance, and one by one they were crushed out of existence. Ryder called these manoeuvres "business"; the world called thembrigandage. But the Colossus prospered and slowly built up thefoundations of the extraordinary fortune which is the talk and thewonder of the world to-day. Master now of the oil situation, Rydersucceeded in his ambition of organizing the Empire TradingCompany, the most powerful, the most secretive, and the mostwealthy business institution the commercial world has yet known. 

Yet with all this success John Burkett Ryder was still notcontent. He was now a rich man, richer by many millions that hehad dreamed he could ever be, but still he was unsatisfied. Hebecame money mad. He wanted to be richer still, to be the richestman in the world, the richest man the world had ever known. Andthe richer he got the stronger the idea grew upon him with all theforce of a morbid obsession. He thought of money by day, he dreamtof it at night. No matter by what questionable device it was to beprocured, more gold and more must flow into his alreadyoverflowing coffers. So each day, instead of spending the rest ofhis years in peace, in the enjoyment of the wealth he hadaccumulated, he went downtown like any twenty-dollar-a-week clerkto the tall building in lower Broadway and, closeted with hisassociates, toiled and plotted to make more money. 

He acquired vast copper mines and secured control of this andthat railroad. He had invested heavily in the Southern andTranscontinental road and was chairman of its board of directors. Then he and his fellow-conspirators planned a great financialcoup. The millions were not coming in fast enough. They must makea hundred millions at one stroke. They floated a great miningcompany to which the public was invited to subscribe. The schemehaving the endorsement of the Empire Trading Company no onesuspected a snare, and such was the magic of John Ryder's namethat gold flowed in from every point of the compass. The stocksold away above par the day it was issued. Men deemed themselvesfortunate if they were even granted an allotment. What matter if, a few days later, the house of cards came tumbling down, and adozen suicides were strewn along Wall Street, that sinisterthoroughfare which, as a wit has said, has a graveyard at one endand the river at the other! Had Ryder any twinges of conscience?Hardly. Had he not made a cool twenty millions by the deal?

Yet this commercial pirate, this Napoleon of finance, was not awholly bad man. He had his redeeming qualities, like most bad men. His most pronounced weakness, and the one that had made him themost conspicuous man of his time, was an entire lack of moralprinciple. No honest or honourable man could have amassed suchstupendous wealth. In other words, John Ryder had not beenequipped by Nature with a conscience. He had no sense of right, orwrong, or justice where his own interests were concerned. He wasthe prince of egoists. On the other hand, he possessed qualitieswhich, with some people, count as virtues. He was pious andregular in his attendance at church and, while he had done butlittle for charity, he was known to have encouraged the giving ofalms by the members of his family, which consisted of a wife, whose timid voice was rarely heard, and a son Jefferson, who wasthe destined successor to his gigantic estate. 

Such was the man who was the real power behind the Southern andTranscontinental Railroad. More than anyone else Ryder had beenaroused by the present legal action, not so much for the moneyinterest at stake as that any one should dare to thwart his will. It had been a pet scheme of his, this purchase for a song, whenthe land was cheap, of some thousand acres along the line, and itis true that at the time of the purchase there had been some ideaof laying the land out as a park. But real estate values hadincreased in astonishing fashion, the road could no longer affordto carry out the original scheme, and had attempted to dispose ofthe property for building purposes, including a right of way for abranch road. The news, made public in the newspapers, had raised astorm of protest. The people in the vicinity claimed that therailroad secured the land on the express condition of a park beinglaid out, and in order to make a legal test they had secured aninjunction, which had been sustained by Judge Rossmore of theUnited States Circuit Court. 

These details were hastily told and re-told by one clerk toanother as the babel of voices in the inner room grew louder, andmore directors kept arriving from the ever-busy elevators. Themeeting was called for three o'clock. Another five minutes and thechairman would rap for order. A tall, strongly built man withwhite moustache and kindly smile emerged from the directors roomand, addressing one of the clerks, asked:

"Has Mr. Ryder arrived yet?"

The alacrity with which the employé hastened forward to replywould indicate that his interlocutor was a person of more thanordinary importance. 

"No, Senator, not yet. We expect him any minute. " Then with adeferential smile he added: "Mr. Ryder usually arrives on thestroke, sir. "

The senator gave a nod of acquiescence and, turning on hisheel, greeted with a grasp of the hand and affable smile hisfellow-directors as they passed in by twos and threes. 

Senator Roberts was in the world of politics what his friend JohnBurkett Ryder was in the world of finance--a leader of men. Hestarted life in Wisconsin as an errand boy, was educated in thepublic schools, and later became clerk in a dry-goods store, finally going into business for his own account on a large scale. He was elected to the Legislature, where his ability as anorganizer soon gained the friendship of the men in power, andlater was sent to Congress, where he was quickly initiated in thegame of corrupt politics. In 1885 he entered the United StatesSenate. He soon became the acknowledged leader of a considerablemajority of the Republican senators, and from then on he was afigure to be reckoned with. A very ambitious man, with a greatlove of power and few scruples, it is little wonder that only thepractical or dishonest side of politics appealed to him. He was inpolitics for all there was in it, and he saw in his lofty positiononly a splendid opportunity for easy graft. 

He did not hesitate to make such alliances with corporateinterests seeking influence at Washington as would enable him toaccomplish this purpose, and in this way he had met and formed astrong friendship with John Burkett Ryder. Each being a master inhis own field was useful to the other. Neither was troubled withqualms of conscience, so they never quarrelled. If the Ryderinterests needed anything in the Senate, Roberts and his followerswere there to attend to it. Just now the cohort was marshalled indefence of the railroads against the attacks of the new Rebatebill. In fact, Ryder managed to keep the Senate busy all the time. When, on the other hand, the senators wanted anything--and theyoften did--Ryder saw that they got it, lower rates for this one, afat job for that one, not forgetting themselves. Senator Robertswas already a very rich man, and although the world often wonderedwhere he got it, no one had the courage to ask him. 

But the Republican leader was stirred with an ambition greaterthan that of controlling a majority in the Senate. He had adaughter, a marriageable young woman who, at least in her father'sopinion, would make a desirable wife for any man. His friend Ryderhad a son, and this son was the only heir to the greatest fortuneever amassed by one man, a fortune which, at its present rate ofincrease, by the time the father died and the young couple wereready to inherit, would probably amount to over _six billions ofdollars_. Could the human mind grasp the possibilities of such acolossal fortune? It staggered the imagination. Its owner, or theman who controlled it, would be master of the world! Was not thisa prize any man might well set himself out to win? The senator wasthinking of it now as he stood exchanging banal remarks with themen who accosted him. If he could only bring off that marriage hewould be content. The ambition of his life would be attained. There was no difficulty as far as John Ryder was concerned. Hefavoured the match and had often spoken of it. Indeed, Ryderdesired it, for such an alliance would naturally further hisbusiness interests in every way. Roberts knew that his daughterKate had more than a liking for Ryder's handsome young son. Moreover, Kate was practical, like her father, and had senseenough to realize what it would mean to be the mistress of theRyder fortune. No, Kate was all right, but there was young Ryderto reckon with. It would take two in this case to make a bargain. 

Jefferson Ryder was, in truth, an entirely different man from hisfather. It was difficult to realize that both had sprung from thesame stock. A college-bred boy with all the advantages hisfather's wealth could give him, he had inherited from the parentonly those characteristics which would have made him successfuleven if born poor--activity, pluck, application, dogged obstinacy, alert mentality. To these qualities he added what his fathersorely lacked--a high notion of honour, a keen sense of right andwrong. He had the honest man's contempt for meanness of anydescription, and he had little patience with the lax so-calledbusiness morals of the day. For him a dishonourable or dishonestaction could have no apologist, and he could see no differencebetween the crime of the hungry wretch who stole a loaf of breadand the coal baron who systematically robbed both his employés andthe public. In fact, had he been on the bench he would probablyhave acquitted the human derelict who, in despair, had appropriatedthe prime necessary of life, and sent the over-fed, consciencelesscoal baron to jail. 

"Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. " This simpleand fundamental axiom Jefferson Ryder had adopted early in life, and it had become his religion--the only one, in fact, that hehad. He was never pious like his father, a fact much regretted byhis mother, who could see nothing but eternal damnation in storefor her son because he never went to church and professed noorthodox creed. She knew him to be a good lad, but to her simplemind a conduct of life based merely on a system of moralphilosophy was the worst kind of paganism. There could, sheargued, be no religion, and assuredly no salvation, outside thedogmatic teachings of the Church. But otherwise Jefferson was amodel son and, with the exception of this bad habit of thinkingfor himself on religious matters, really gave her no anxiety. WhenJefferson left college, his father took him into the EmpireTrading Company with the idea of his eventually succeeding him ashead of the concern, but the different views held by father andson on almost every subject soon led to stormy scenes that madethe continuation of the arrangement impossible. Senator Robertswas well aware of these unfortunate independent tendencies in JohnRyder's son, and while he devoutly desired the consummation ofJefferson's union with his daughter, he quite realized that theyoung man was a nut which was going to be exceedingly hard tocrack. 

"Hello, senator, you're always on time!"

Disturbed in his reflections, Senator Roberts looked up and sawthe extended hand of a red-faced, corpulent man, one of thedirectors. He was no favourite with the senator, but the latterwas too keen a man of the world to make enemies uselessly, so hecondescended to place two fingers in the outstretched fat palm. 

"How are you, Mr. Grimsby? Well, what are we going to do aboutthis injunction? The case has gone against us. I knew JudgeRossmore's decision would be for the other side. Public opinion isaroused. The press--"

Mr. Grimsby's red face grew more apoplectic as he blurted out:

"Public opinion and the press be d----d. Who cares for publicopinion? What is public opinion, anyhow? This road can manage itsown affairs or it can't. If it can't I for one quit railroading. The press! Pshaw! It's all graft, I tell you. It's nothing but astrike! I never knew one of these virtuous outbursts that wasn't. First the newspapers bark ferociously to advertise themselves;then they crawl round and whine like a cur. And it usually costssomething to fix matters. "

The senator smiled grimly. 

"No, no, Grimsby--not this time. It's more serious than that. Hitherto the road has been unusually lucky in its benchdecisions--"

The senator gave a covert glance round to see if any long earswere listening. Then he added:

"We can't expect always to get a favourable decision like that inthe Cartwright case, when franchise rights valued at nearly fivemillions were at stake. Judge Stollmann proved himself a truefriend in that affair. "

Grimsby made a wry grimace as he retorted:

"Yes, and it was worth it to him. A Supreme Court judge don't geta cheque for $20, 000 every day. That represents two years' pay. "

"It might represent two years in jail if it were found out, " saidthe senator with a forced laugh, Grimsby saw an opportunity, and he could not resist thetemptation. Bluntly he said:

"As far as jail's concerned, others might be getting their desertsthere too. "

The senator looked keenly at Grimsby from under his whiteeyebrows. Then in a calm, decisive tone he replied:

"It's no question of a cheque this time. The road could not buyJudge Rossmore with $200, 000. He is absolutely unapproachable inthat way. "

The apoplectic face of Mr. Grimsby looked incredulous. 

It was hard for these men who plotted in the dark, and cheated thewidow and the orphan for love of the dollar, to understand thatthere were in the world, breathing the same air as they, men whoput honour, truth and justice above mere money-getting. With aslight tinge of sarcasm he asked:

"Is there any man in our public life who is unapproachable fromsome direction or other?"

"Yes, Judge Rossmore is such a man. He is one of the few men inAmerican public life who takes his duties seriously. In thestrictest sense of the term, he serves his country instead ofserving himself. I am no friend of his, but I must do him thatjustice. "

He spoke sharply, in an irritated tone, as if resenting theinsinuation of this vulgarian that every man in public life hadhis price. Roberts knew that the charge was true as far as he andthe men he consorted with were concerned, but sometimes the truthhurts. That was why he had for a moment seemed to champion JudgeRossmore, which, seeing that the judge himself was at that verymoment under a cloud, was an absurd thing for him to do. 

He had known Rossmore years before when the latter was a citymagistrate in New York. That was before he, Roberts, had become apolitical grafter and when the decent things in life stillappealed to him. The two men, although having few interests incommon, had seen a good deal of one another until Roberts went toWashington when their relations were completely severed. But hehad always watched Rossmore's career, and when he was made a judgeof the Supreme Court at a comparatively early age he was sincerelyglad. If anything could have convinced Roberts that success cancome in public life to a man who pursues it by honest methods itwas the success of James Rossmore. He could never help feelingthat Rossmore had been endowed by Nature with certain qualitieswhich had been denied to him, above all that ability to walkstraight through life with skirts clean which he had foundimpossible himself. To-day Judge Rossmore was one of the mostcelebrated judges in the country. He was a brilliant jurist and asplendid after-dinner speaker. He was considered the most learnedand able of all the members of the judiciary, and his decisionswere noted as much for their fearlessness as for their wisdom. Butwhat was far more, he enjoyed a reputation for absolute integrity. Until now no breath of slander, no suspicion of corruption, hadever touched him. Even his enemies acknowledged that. And that iswhy there was a panic to-day among the directors of the Southernand Transcontinental Railroad. This honest, upright man had beencalled upon in the course of his duty to decide matters of vitalimportance to the road, and the directors were ready to stampedebecause, in their hearts, they knew the weakness of their case andthe strength of the judge. 

Grimsby, unconvinced, returned to the charge. 

"What about these newspaper charges? Did Judge Rossmore take abribe from the Great Northwestern or didn't he? You ought toknow. "

"I do know, " answered the senator cautiously and somewhat curtly, "but until Mr. Ryder arrives I can say nothing. I believe he hasbeen inquiring into the matter. He will tell us when he comes. "

The hands of the large clock in the outer room pointed to three. An active, dapper little man with glasses and with books under hisarm passed hurriedly from another office into the directors room. 

"There goes Mr. Lane with the minutes. The meeting is called. Where's Mr. Ryder?"

There was a general move of the scattered groups of directorstoward the committee room. The clock overhead began to strike. Thelast stroke had not quite died away when the big swinging doorsfrom the street were thrown open and there entered a tall, thinman, gray-headed, and with a slight stoop, but keen eyed andalert. He was carefully dressed in a well-fitting frock coat, white waistcoat, black tie and silk hat. 

It was John Burkett Ryder, the Colossus. 

CHAPTER II

At fifty-six, John Burkett Ryder was surprisingly well preserved. With the exception of the slight stoop, already noted, and therapidly thinning snow-white hair, his step was as light andelastic, and his brain as vigorous and alert, as in a man offorty. Of old English stock, his physical make-up presentedall those strongly marked characteristics of our race which, sprung from Anglo-Saxon ancestry, but modified by nearly 300years of different climate and customs, has gradually producedthe distinct and true American type, as easily recognizable amongthe family of nations as any other of the earth's children. Talland distinguished-looking, Ryder would have attracted attentionanywhere. Men who have accomplished much in life usually bearplainly upon their persons the indefinable stamp of achievement, whether of good or evil, which renders them conspicuous amongtheir fellows. We turn after a man in the street and ask, Who ishe? And nine times out of ten the object of our curiosity is a manwho has made his mark--a successful soldier, a famous sailor, acelebrated author, a distinguished lawyer, or even a notoriouscrook. 

There was certainly nothing in John Ryder's outward appearance tojustify Lombroso's sensational description of him: "A social andphysiological freak, a degenerate and a prodigy of turpitude who, in the pursuit of money, crushes with the insensibility of a steelmachine everyone who stands in his way. " On the contrary, Ryder, outwardly at least, was a prepossessing-looking man. His head waswell-shaped, and he had an intellectual brow, while power wasexpressed in every gesture of his hands and body. Every inch ofhim suggested strength and resourcefulness. His face, when in goodhumour, frequently expanded in a pleasant smile, and he had evenbeen known to laugh boisterously, usually at his own stories, which he rightly considered very droll, and of which he possesseda goodly stock. But in repose his face grew stern and forbidding, and when his prognathous jaw, indicative of will-power andbull-dog tenacity, snapped to with a click-like sound, those whoheard it knew that squalls were coming. 

But it was John Ryder's eyes that were regarded as the mostreliable barometer of his mental condition. Wonderful eyes theywere, strangely eloquent and expressive, and their most singularfeature was that they possessed the uncanny power of changingcolour like a cat's. When their owner was at peace with the world, and had temporarily shaken off the cares of business, his eyeswere of the most restful, beautiful blue, like the sky aftersunrise on a Spring morning, and looking into their serene depthsit seemed absurd to think that this man could ever harm a fly. Hisface, while under the spell of this kindly mood, was so benevolentand gentle, so frank and honest that you felt there was nothing inthe world--purse, honour, wife, child--that, if needs be, youwould not entrust to his keeping. 

When this period of truce was ended, when the plutocrat was oncemore absorbed in controlling the political as well as thecommercial machinery of the nation, then his eyes took on asnakish, greenish hue, and one could plainly read in them thecunning, the avariciousness, the meanness, the insatiable thirstfor gain that had made this man the most unscrupulous money-getterof his time. But his eyes had still another colour, and when thislast transformation took place those dependent on him, and evenhis friends, quaked with fear. For they were his eyes of anger. Onthese dreaded occasions his eyes grew black as darkest night andflashed fire as lightning rends the thundercloud. Almostungovernable fury was, indeed, the weakest spot in John Ryder'sarmour, for in these moments of appalling wrath he was reckless ofwhat he said or did, friendship, self-interest, prudence--all weresacrificed. 

Such was the Colossus on whom all eyes were turned as he entered. Instantly the conversations stopped as by magic. The directorsnudged each other and whispered. Instinctively, Ryder singled outhis crony, Senator Roberts, who advanced with effusive gesture:

"Hello, Senator!"

"You're punctual as usual, Mr. Ryder. I never knew you to belate!"

The great man chuckled, and the little men standing around, listening breathlessly, chuckled in respectful sympathy, and theyelbowed and pushed one another in their efforts to attract Ryder'snotice, like so many cowardly hyenas not daring to approach thelordly wolf. Senator Roberts made a remark in a low tone to Ryder, whereupon the latter laughed. The bystanders congratulated eachother silently. The great man was pleased to be in a good humour. And as Ryder turned with the senator to enter the Directors Roomthe light from the big windows fell full on his face, and theynoticed that his eyes were of the softest blue. 

"No squalls to-day, " whispered one. 

"Wait and see, " retorted a more experienced colleague. "Those eyesare more fickle than the weather. "

Outside the sky was darkening, and drops of rain were alreadyfalling. A flash of lightning presaged the coming storm. 

Ryder passed on and into the Directors Room followed by SenatorRoberts and the other directors, the procession being brought upby the dapper little secretary bearing the minutes. 

The long room with its narrow centre table covered with greenbaize was filled with directors scattered in little groups and alltalking at once with excited gesture. At the sight of Ryder thechattering stopped as if by common consent, and the only soundaudible was of the shuffling of feet and the moving of chairs asthe directors took their places around the long table. 

With a nod here and there Ryder took his place in the chairman'sseat and rapped for order. Then at a sign from the chair thedapper little secretary began in a monotonous voice to read theminutes of the previous meeting. No one listened, a few directorsyawned. Others had their eyes riveted on Ryder's face, trying toread there if he had devised some plan to offset the crushing blowof this adverse decision, which meant a serious loss to them all. He, the master mind, had served them in many a like crisis in thepast. Could he do so again? But John Ryder gave no sign. His eyes, still of the same restful blue, were fixed on the ceiling watchinga spider marching with diabolical intent on a wretched fly thathad become entangled in its web. And as the secretary ambledmonotonously on, Ryder watched and watched until he saw the spiderseize its helpless prey and devour it. Fascinated by thespectacle, which doubtless suggested to him some analogy to hisown methods, Ryder sat motionless, his eyes fastened on theceiling, until the sudden stopping of the secretary's readingaroused him and told him that the minutes were finished. Quicklythey were approved, and the chairman proceeded as rapidly aspossible with the regular business routine. That disposed of, themeeting was ready for the chief business of the day. Ryder thencalmly proceeded to present the facts in the case. 

Some years back the road had acquired as an investment somethousands of acres of land located in the outskirts of Auburndale, on the line of their road. The land was bought cheap, and therehad been some talk of laying part of it out as a public park. Thispromise had been made at the time in good faith, but it was nocondition of the sale. If, afterwards, owing to the rise in thevalue of real estate, the road found it impossible to carry outthe original idea, surely they were masters of their own property!The people of Auburndale thought differently and, goaded on by thelocal newspapers, had begun action in the courts to restrain theroad from diverting the land from its alleged original purpose. They had succeeded in getting the injunction, but the road hadfought it tooth and nail, and finally carried it to the SupremeCourt, where Judge Rossmore, after reserving his opinion, hadfinally sustained the injunction and decided against the railroad. That was the situation, and he would now like to hear from themembers of the board. 

Mr. Grimsby rose. Self-confident and noisily loquacious, as mostmen of his class are in simple conversation, he was plainlyintimidated at speaking before such a crowd. He did not know whereto look nor what to do with his hands, and he shuffled uneasily onhis feet, while streams of nervous perspiration ran down his fatface, which he mopped repeatedly with a big coloured handkerchief. At last, taking courage, he began:

"Mr. Chairman, for the past ten years this road has made biggerearnings in proportion to its carrying capacity than any otherrailroad in the United States. We have had fewer accidents, lessinjury to rolling stock, less litigation and bigger dividends. Theroad has been well managed and"--here he looked significantly inRyder's direction--"there has been a big brain behind the manager. We owe you that credit, Mr. Ryder!"

Cries of "Hear! Hear!" came from all round the table. 

Ryder bowed coldly, and Mr. Grimsby continued:

"But during the last year or two things have gone wrong. There hasbeen a lot of litigation, most of which has gone against us, andit has cost a heap of money. It reduced the last quarterlydividend very considerably, and the new complication--thisAuburndale suit, which also has gone against us--is going to makea still bigger hole in our exchequer. Gentlemen, I don't want tobe a prophet of misfortune, but I'll tell you this--unlesssomething is done to stop this hostility in the courts you and Istand to lose every cent we have invested in the road. This suitwhich we have just lost means a number of others. What I would askour chairman is what has become of his former good relations withthe Supreme Court, what has become of his influence, which neverfailed us. What are these rumours regarding Judge Rossmore? He ischarged in the newspapers with having accepted a present from aroad in whose favour he handed down a very valuable decision. Howis it that our road cannot reach Judge Rossmore and make himpresents?"

The speaker sat down, flushed and breathless. The expression onevery face showed that the anxiety was general. The directorsglanced at Ryder, but his face was expressionless as marble. Apparently he took not the slightest interest in this matter whichso agitated his colleagues. 

Another director rose. He was a better speaker than Mr. Grimsby, but his voice had a hard, rasping quality that smote the earsunpleasantly. He said:

"Mr. Chairman, none of us can deny what Mr. Grimsby has just putbefore us so vividly. We are threatened not with one, but with ahundred such suits, unless something is done either to placate thepublic or to render its attacks harmless. Rightly or wrongly, therailroad is hated by the people, yet we are only what railroadconditions compel us to be. With the present fierce competition, no fine question of ethics can enter into our dealings as abusiness organization. With an irritated public and press on oneside, and a hostile judiciary on the other, the outlook certainlyis far from bright. But is the judiciary hostile? Is it not truethat we have been singularly free from litigation until recently, and that most of the decisions were favourable to the road? JudgeRossmore is the real danger. While he is on the bench the road isnot safe. Yet all efforts to reach him have failed and will fail. I do not take any stock in the newspaper stories regarding JudgeRossmore. They are preposterous. Judge Rossmore is too strong aman to be got rid of so easily. "

The speaker sat down and another rose, his arguments being merelya reiteration of those already heard. Ryder did not listen to whatwas being said. Why should he? Was he not familiar with everypossible phase of the game? Better than these men who merelytalked, he was planning how the railroad and all his otherinterests could get rid of this troublesome judge. 

It was true. He who controlled legislatures and dictated to SupremeCourt judges had found himself powerless when each turn of the legalmachinery had brought him face to face with Judge Rossmore. Suitafter suit had been decided against him and the interests herepresented, and each time it was Judge Rossmore who had handeddown the decision. So for years these two men had fought a silentbut bitter duel in which principle on the one side and attemptedcorruption on the other were the gauge of battle. Judge Rossmorefought with the weapons which his oath and the law directed himto use, Ryder with the only weapons he understood--bribery andtrickery. And each time it had been Rossmore who had emergedtriumphant. Despite every manoeuvre Ryder's experience couldsuggest, notwithstanding every card that could be played toundermine his credit and reputation, Judge Rossmore stood higherin the country's confidence than when he was first appointed. 

So when Ryder found he could not corrupt this honest judge withgold, he decided to destroy him with calumny. He realized that thesordid methods which had succeeded with other judges would neverprevail with Rossmore, so he plotted to take away from this manthe one thing he cherished most--his honour. He would ruin him bydefaming his character, and so skilfully would he accomplish hiswork that the judge himself would realize the hopelessness ofresistance. No scruples embarrassed Ryder in arriving at thisdetermination. From his point of view he was fully justified. "Business is business. He hurts my interests; therefore I removehim. " So he argued, and he considered it no more wrong to wreckthe happiness of this honourable man than he would to have shot aburglar in self-defence. So having thus tranquillized hisconscience he had gone to work in his usually thorough manner, andhis success had surpassed the most sanguine expectations. 

This is what he had done. 

Like many of our public servants whose labours are compensatedonly in niggardly fashion by an inconsiderate country, JudgeRossmore was a man of but moderate means. His income as Justice ofthe Supreme Court was $12, 000 a year, but for a man in hisposition, having a certain appearance to keep up, it little morethan kept the wolf from the door. He lived quietly but comfortablyin New York City with his wife and his daughter Shirley, anattractive young woman who had graduated from Vassar and had showna marked taste for literature. The daughter's education had cost agood deal of money, and this, together with life insurance andother incidentals of keeping house in New York, had about takenall he had. Yet he had managed to save a little, and those yearswhen he could put by a fifth of his salary the judge consideredhimself lucky. Secretly, he was proud of his comparative poverty. At least the world could never ask him "where he got it. "

Ryder was well acquainted with Judge Rossmore's private means. Thetwo men had met at a dinner, and although Ryder had tried tocultivate the acquaintance, he never received much encouragement. Ryder's son Jefferson, too, had met Miss Shirley Rossmore and beenmuch attracted to her, but the father having more ambitious plansfor his heir quickly discouraged all attentions in that direction. He himself, however, continued to meet the judge casually, and oneevening he contrived to broach the subject of profitableinvestments. The judge admitted that by careful hoarding and muchstinting he had managed to save a few thousand dollars which hewas anxious to invest in something good. 

Quick as the keen-eyed vulture swoops down on its prey the wilyfinancier seized the opportunity thus presented. And he took somuch trouble in answering the judge's inexperienced questions, andgenerally made himself so agreeable, that the judge found himselfregretting that he and Ryder had, by force of circumstances, beenopposed to each other in public life so long. Ryder stronglyrecommended the purchase of Alaskan Mining stock, a new andbooming enterprise which had lately become very active in themarket. Ryder said he had reasons to believe that the stock wouldsoon advance, and now there was an opportunity to get it cheap. 

A few days after he had made the investment the judge wassurprised to receive certificates of stock for double the amounthe had paid for. At the same time he received a letter from thesecretary of the company explaining that the additional stock waspool stock and not to be marketed at the present time. It was inthe nature of a bonus to which he was entitled as one of the earlyshareholders. The letter was full of verbiage and technicaldetails of which the judge understood nothing, but he thought itvery liberal of the company, and putting the stock away in hissafe soon forgot all about it. Had he been a business man he wouldhave scented peril. He would have realized that he had now in hispossession $50, 000 worth of stock for which he had not paid acent, and furthermore had deposited it when a reorganization came. 

But the judge was sincerely grateful for Ryder's apparentlydisinterested advice and wrote two letters to him, one in which hethanked him for the trouble he had taken, and another in which heasked him if he was sure the company was financially sound, as theinvestment he contemplated making represented all his savings. Headded in the second letter that he had received stock for doublethe amount of his investment, and that being a perfect child inbusiness transactions he had been unable to account for the extra$50, 000 worth until the secretary of the company had written himassuring him that everything was in order. These letters Ryderkept. 

From that time on the Alaskan Mining Company underwent mysteriouschanges. New capitalists gained control and the name was alteredto the Great Northwestern Mining Company. Then it became involvedin litigation, and one suit, the outcome of which meant millionsto the company, was carried to the Supreme Court, where JudgeRossmore was sitting. The judge had by this time forgotten allabout the company in which he owned stock. He did not even recallits name. He only knew vaguely that it was a mine and that it wassituated in Alaska. Could he dream that the Great NorthwesternMining Company and the company to which he had entrusted his fewthousands were one and the same? In deciding on the merits of thecase presented to him right seemed to him to be plainly with theNorthwestern, and he rendered a decision to that effect. It was animportant decision, involving a large sum, and for a day or two itwas talked about. But as it was the opinion of the most learnedand honest judge on the bench no one dreamed of questioning it. 

But very soon ugly paragraphs began to appear in the newspapers. One paper asked if it were true that Judge Rossmore owned stock inthe Great Northwestern Mining Company which had recently benefitedso signally by his decision. Interviewed by a reporter, JudgeRossmore indignantly denied being interested in any way in thecompany. Thereupon the same paper returned to the attack, statingthat the judge must surely be mistaken as the records showed asale of stock to him at the time the company was known as theAlaskan Mining Company. When he read this the judge wasoverwhelmed. It was true then! They had not slandered him. It washe who had lied, but how innocently--how innocently!

His daughter Shirley, who was his greatest friend and comfort, wasthen in Europe. She had gone to the Continent to rest, afterworking for months on a novel which she had just published. Hiswife, entirely without experience in business matters and somewhatof an invalid, was helpless to advise him. But to his old andtried friend, ex-Judge Stott, Judge Rossmore explained the factsas they were. Stott shook his head. "It's a conspiracy!" he cried. "And John B. Ryder is behind it. " Rossmore refused to believe thatany man could so deliberately try to encompass another'sdestruction, but when more newspaper stories came out he began torealize that Stott was right and that his enemies had indeed dealthim a deadly blow. One newspaper boldly stated that Judge Rossmorewas down on the mining company's books for $50, 000 more stock thanhe had paid for, and it went on to ask if this were payment forthe favourable decision just rendered. Rossmore, helpless, child-like as he was in business matters, now fully realized theseriousness of his position. "My God! My God!" he cried, as hebowed his head down on his desk. And for a whole day he remainedcloseted in his library, no one venturing near him. 

As John Ryder sat there sphinx-like at the head of the directors'table he reviewed all this in his mind. His own part in the workwas now done and well done, and he had come to this meeting to-dayto tell them of his triumph. 

The speaker, to whom he had paid such scant attention, resumed hisseat, and there followed a pause and an intense silence which wasbroken only by the pattering of the rain against the big windows. The directors turned expectantly to Ryder, waiting for him tospeak. What could the Colossus do now to save the situation? Criesof "the Chair! the Chair!" arose on every side. Senator Robertsleaned over to Ryder and whispered something in his ear. 

 [Pencil illustration of the meeting]

 He had come to this meeting to-day to tell them of his triumph. --_Page 46. _

With an acquiescent gesture, John Ryder tapped the table with hisgavel and rose to address his fellow directors. Instantly the roomwas silent again as the tomb. One might have heard a pin drop, sointense was the attention. All eyes were fixed on the chairman. The air itself seemed charged with electricity, that needed but aspark to set it ablaze. 

Speaking deliberately and dispassionately, the Master Dissemblerbegan. 

They had all listened carefully, he said, to what had been statedby previous speakers. The situation no doubt was very critical, but they had weathered worse storms and he had every reason tohope they would outlive this storm. It was true that publicopinion was greatly incensed against the railroads and, indeed, against all organized capital, and was seeking to injure themthrough the courts. For a time this agitation would hurt businessand lessen the dividends, for it meant not only smaller annualearnings but that a lot of money must be spent in Washington. 

The eyes of the listeners, who were hanging on every word, involuntarily turned in the direction of Senator Roberts, but thelatter, at that moment busily engaged in rummaging among a lot ofpapers, seemed to have missed this significant allusion to theroad's expenses in the District of Columbia. Ryder continued:

In his experience such waves of reform were periodical and soonwear themselves out, when things go on just as they did before. Much of the agitation, doubtless, was a strike for graft. Theywould have to go down in their pockets, he supposed, and thenthese yellow newspapers and these yellow magazines that werebarking at their heels would let them go. But in regard to theparticular case now at issue--this Auburndale decision--there hadbeen no way of preventing it. Influence had been used, but to noeffect. The thing to do now was to prevent any such disasters infuture by removing the author of them. 

The directors bent eagerly forward. Had Ryder really got some planup his sleeve after all? The faces around the table lookedbrighter, and the directors cleared their throats and settledthemselves down in their chairs as audiences do in the theatrewhen the drama is reaching its climax. 

The board, continued Ryder with icy calmness, had perhaps heard, and also seen in the newspapers, the stories regarding JudgeRossmore and his alleged connection with the Great NorthwesternCompany. Perhaps they had not believed these stories. It was onlynatural. He had not believed them himself. But he had taken thetrouble to inquire into the matter very carefully, and heregretted to say that the stories were true. In fact, they were nolonger denied by Judge Rossmore himself. 

The directors looked at each other in amazement. Gasps ofastonishment, incredulity, satisfaction were heard all over theroom. The rumours were true, then? Was it possible? Incredible!

Investigation, Ryder went on, had shown that Judge Rossmore wasnot only interested in the company in whose favour, as Judge ofthe Supreme Court, he had rendered an important decision, but whatwas worse, he had accepted from that company a valuable gift--thatis, $50, 000 worth of stock--for which he had given absolutelynothing in return unless, as some claimed, the weight of hisinfluence on the bench. These facts were very ugly and sounanswerable that Judge Rossmore did not attempt to answer them, and the important news which he, the chairman, had to announce tohis fellow-directors that afternoon, was that Judge Rossmore'sconduct would be made the subject of an inquiry by Congress. 

This was the spark that was needed to ignite the electricallycharged air. A wild cry of triumph went up from this band ofjackals only too willing to fatten their bellies at the cost ofanother man's ruin, and one director, in his enthusiasm, roseexcitedly from his chair and demanded a vote of thanks for JohnRyder. 

Ryder coldly opposed the motion. No thanks were due to him, hesaid deprecatingly, nor did he think the occasion called forcongratulations of any kind. It was surely a sad spectacle to seethis honoured judge, this devoted father, this blameless citizenthreatened with ruin and disgrace on account of one false step. Let them rather sympathize with him and his family in theirmisfortune. He had little more to tell. The Congressional inquirywould take place immediately, and in all probability a demandwould be made upon the Senate for Judge Rossmore's impeachment. Itwas, he added, almost unnecessary for him to remind the Boardthat, in the event of impeachment, the adverse decision in theAuburndale case would be annulled and the road would be entitledto a new trial. 

Ryder sat down, and pandemonium broke loose, the delighteddirectors tumbling over each other in their eagerness to shakehands with the man who had saved them. Ryder had given no hintthat he had been a factor in the working up of this case againsttheir common enemy, in fact he had appeared to sympathise withhim, but the directors knew well that he and he alone had been themaster mind which had brought about the happy result. 

On a motion to adjourn, the meeting broke up, and everyone beganto troop towards the elevators. Outside the rain was now comingdown in torrents and the lights that everywhere dotted the greatcity only paled when every few moments a vivid flash of lightningrent the enveloping gloom. 

Ryder and Senator Roberts went down in the elevator together. Whenthey reached the street the senator inquired in a low tone:

"Do you think they really believed Rossmore was influenced in hisdecision?"

Ryder glanced from the lowering clouds overhead to his electricbrougham which awaited him at the curb and replied indifferently:

"Not they. They don't care. All they want to believe is that he isto be impeached. The man was dangerous and had to be removed--nomatter by what means. He is our enemy--my enemy--and I never givequarter to my enemies!"

As he spoke his prognathous jaw snapped to with a click-likesound, and in his eyes now coal-black were glints of fire. At thesame instant there was a blinding flash, accompanied by a terrificcrash, and the splinters of the flag-pole on the buildingopposite, which had been struck by a bolt, fell at their feet. 

"A good or a bad omen?" asked the senator with a nervous laugh. Hewas secretly afraid of lightning; but was ashamed to admit it. 

"A bad omen for Judge Rossmore!" rejoined Ryder coolly, as heslammed to the door of the cab, and the two men drove rapidly offin the direction of Fifth Avenue. 

CHAPTER III

Of all the spots on this fair, broad earth where the jaded globewanderer, surfeited with hackneyed sight-seeing, may sit inperfect peace and watch the world go by, there is none morefascinating nor one presenting a more brilliant panorama ofcosmopolitan life than that famous corner on the Paris boulevards, formed by the angle of the Boulevard des Capucines and the Placede l'Opéra. Here, on the "terrace" of the Café de la Paix, withits white and gold façade and long French windows, and itsinnumerable little marble-topped tables and rattan chairs, one maysit for hours at the trifling expense of a few _sous_, undisturbedeven by the tip-seeking _garçon_, and, if one happens to be astudent of human nature, find keen enjoyment in observing theworld-types, representing every race and nationality under thesun, that pass and re-pass in a steady, never ceasing, exhaustlessstream. The crowd surges to and fro, past the little tables, occasionally toppling over a chair or two in the crush, moving upor down the great boulevards, one procession going to the right, in the direction of the Church of the Madeleine, the other to theleft heading toward the historic Bastille, both really goingnowhere in particular, but ambling gently and good humouredlyalong enjoying the sights--and life!

Paris, queen of cities! Light-hearted, joyous, radiant Paris--theplayground of the nations, the Mecca of the pleasure-seekers, thecity beautiful! Paris--the siren, frankly immoral, alwaysseductive, ever caressing! City of a thousand politicalconvulsions, city of a million crimes--her streets have run withhuman blood, horrors unspeakable have stained her history, civilstrife has scarred her monuments, the German conqueror insolentlyhas bivouaced within her walls. Yet, like a virgin undefiled, sheshows no sign of storm and stress, she offers her dimpled cheek tothe rising sun, and when fall the shadows of night and a billionelectric bulbs flash in the siren's crown, her resplendent, matchless beauty dazzles the world!

As the supreme reward of virtue, the good American is promised avisit to Paris when he dies. Those, however, of our sagaciousfellow countrymen who can afford to make the trip, usually manageto see Lutetia before crossing the river Styx. Most Americans likeParis--some like it so well that they have made it their permanenthome--although it must be added that in their admiration theyrarely include the Frenchman. For that matter, we are not as anation particularly fond of any foreigner, largely because we donot understand him, while the foreigner for his part is quitewilling to return the compliment. He gives the Yankee credit forcommercial smartness, which has built up America's great materialprosperity; but he has the utmost contempt for our acquaintancewith art, and no profound respect for us as scientists. 

Is it not indeed fortunate that every nation finds itself superiorto its neighbour? If this were not so each would be jealous of theother, and would cry with envy like a spoiled child who cannothave the moon to play with. Happily, therefore, for the harmony ofthe world, each nation cordially detests the other and the muchexploited "brotherhood of man" is only a figure of speech. TheEnglishman, confident that he is the last word of creation, despises the Frenchman, who, in turn, laughs at the German, whoshows open contempt for the Italian, while the American, consciousof his superiority to the whole family of nations, secretly pitiesthem all. 

The most serious fault which the American--whose one god is Mammonand chief characteristic hustle--has to find with his Frenchbrother is that he enjoys life too much, is never in a hurry and, what to the Yankee mind is hardly respectable, has a habit ofplaying dominoes during business hours. The Frenchman retorts thathis American brother, clever person though he be, has one or twothings still to learn. He has, he declares, no philosophy of life. It is true that he has learned the trick of making money, but inthe things which go to satisfy the soul he is still strangelylacking. He thinks he is enjoying life, when really he is ignorantof what life is. He admits it is not the American's fault, for hehas never been taught how to enjoy life. One must be educated tothat as everything else. All the American is taught is to be in aperpetual hurry and to make money no matter how. In this mad dailyrace for wealth, he bolts his food, not stopping to masticate itproperly, and consequently suffers all his life from dyspepsia. Sohe rushes from the cradle to the grave, and what's the good, sincehe must one day die like all the rest?

And what, asks the foreigner, has the American hustleraccomplished that his slower-going Continental brother has notdone as well? Are finer cities to be found in America than inEurope, do Americans paint more beautiful pictures, or write morelearned or more entertaining books, has America made greaterprogress in science? Is it not a fact that the greatest inventorsand scientists of our time--Marconi, who gave to the worldwireless telegraphy, Professor Curie, who discovered radium, Pasteur, who found a cure for rabies, Santos-Dumont, who hasalmost succeeded in navigating the air, Professor Röntgen whodiscovered the X-ray--are not all these immortals Europeans? Andthose two greatest mechanical inventions of our day, theautomobile and the submarine boat, were they not first introducedand perfected in France before we in America woke up to appreciatetheir use? Is it, therefore, not possible to take life easily andstill achieve?

The logic of these arguments, set forth in _Le Soir_ in an articleon the New World, appealed strongly to Jefferson Ryder as he satin front of the Café de la Paix, sipping a sugared Vermouth. Itwas five o'clock, the magic hour of the _apéritif_, when theglutton taxes his wits to deceive his stomach and work up anappetite for renewed gorging. The little tables were all occupiedwith the usual before-dinner crowd. There were a good manyforeigners, mostly English and Americans and a few Frenchmen, obviously from the provinces, with only a sprinkling of realParisians. 

Jefferson's acquaintance with the French language was none tooprofound, and he had to guess at half the words in the article, but he understood enough to follow the writer's arguments. Yes, itwas quite true, he thought, the American idea of life was allwrong. What was the sense of slaving all one's life, piling up amass of money one cannot possibly spend, when there is only onelife to live? How much saner the man who is content with enoughand enjoys life while he is able to. These Frenchmen, and indeedall the Continental nations, had solved the problem. The gaiety oftheir cities, and this exuberant joy of life they communicated toall about them, were sufficient proofs of it. 

Fascinated by the gay scene around him Jefferson laid the newspaperaside. To the young American, fresh from prosaic money-mad NewYork, the City of Pleasure presented indeed a novel and beautifulspectacle. How different, he mused, from his own city with its onefashionable thoroughfare--Fifth Avenue--monotonously lined for mileswith hideous brownstone residences, and showing little real animationexcept during the Saturday afternoon parade when the activities ofthe smart set, male and female, centred chiefly in such excitingdiversions as going to Huyler's for soda, taking tea at the Waldorf, and trying to outdo each other in dress and show. New Yorkcertainly was a dull place with all its boasted cosmopolitanism. There was no denying that. Destitute of any natural beauty, handicapped by its cramped geographical position between two rivers, made unsightly by gigantic sky-scrapers and that noisy monstrositythe Elevated Railroad, having no intellectual interests, no artinterests, no interest in anything not immediately connected withdollars, it was a city to dwell in and make money in, but hardly acity to _live_ in. The millionaires were building white-marblepalaces, taxing the ingenuity and the originality of the nativearchitects, and thus to some extent relieving the general uglinessand drab commonplaceness, while the merchant princes had begun toinvade the lower end of the avenue with handsome shops. But inspite of all this, in spite of its pretty girls--and Jeffersoninsisted that in this one important particular New York had nopeer--in spite of its comfortable theatres and its wickedTenderloin, and its Rialto made so brilliant at night by thousandsof elaborate electric signs, New York still had the subdued air ofa provincial town, compared with the exuberant gaiety, themultiple attractions, the beauties, natural and artificial, ofcosmopolitan Paris. 

The boulevards were crowded, as usual at that hour, and thecrush of both vehicles and pedestrians was so great as topermit of only a snail-like progress. The clumsy three-horseomnibuses--Madeleine-Bastille--crowded inside and out withpassengers and with their neatly uniformed drivers and conductors, so different in appearance and manner from our own slovenlystreet-car rowdies, were endeavouring to breast a perfect sea of_fiacres_ which, like a swarm of mosquitoes, appeared to be tryingto go in every direction at once, their drivers vociferatingtorrents of vituperous abuse on every man, woman or beastunfortunate enough to get in their way. As a dispenser ofunspeakable profanity, the Paris _cocher_ has no equal. He isunique, no one can approach him. He also enjoys the reputation ofbeing the worst driver in the world. If there is any possible wayin which he can run down a pedestrian or crash into anothervehicle he will do it, probably for the only reason that it giveshim another opportunity to display his choice stock of picturesqueexpletives. 

But it was a lively, good-natured crowd and the fashionably gownedwomen and the well-dressed men, the fakirs hoarsely crying theircatch-penny devices, the noble boulevards lined as far as the eyecould reach with trees in full foliage, the magnificent OperaHouse with its gilded dome glistening in the warm sunshine of aJune afternoon, the broad avenue directly opposite, leading in asplendid straight line to the famous Palais Royal, the almostdazzling whiteness of the houses and monuments, the remarkablecleanliness and excellent condition of the sidewalks and streets, the gaiety and richness of the shops and restaurants, thepicturesque kiosks where they sold newspapers and flowers--allthis made up a picture so utterly unlike anything he was familiarwith at home that Jefferson sat spellbound, delighted. 

Yes, it was true, he thought, the foreigner had indeed learned thesecret of enjoying life. There was assuredly something else in theworld beyond mere money-getting. His father was a slave to it, buthe would never be. He was resolved on that. Yet, with all hisideas of emancipation and progress, Jefferson was a thoroughlypractical young man. He fully understood the value of money, andthe possession of it was as sweet to him as to other men. Only hewould never soil his soul in acquiring it dishonourably. He wasconvinced that society as at present organized was all wrong andthat the feudalism of the middle ages had simply given place to aworse form of slavery--capitalistic driven labour--which hadresulted in the actual iniquitous conditions, the enriching of therich and the impoverishment of the poor. He was familiar with thesocialistic doctrines of the day and had taken a keen interest inthis momentous question, this dream of a regenerated mankind. Hehad read Karl Marx and other socialistic writers, and while hisessentially practical mind could hardly approve all theirprogramme for reorganizing the State, some of which seemed to himutopian, extravagant and even undesirable, he realised that thesocialistic movement was growing rapidly all over the world andthe day was not far distant when in America, as to-day in Germanyand France, it would be a formidable factor to reckon with. 

But until the socialistic millennium arrived and society wasreorganized, money, he admitted, would remain the lever of theworld, the great stimulus to effort. Money supplied not only thenecessities of life but also its luxuries, everything the materialdesire craved for, and so long as money had this magic purchasingpower, so long would men lie and cheat and rob and kill for itspossession. Was life worth living without money? Could one traveland enjoy the glorious spectacles Nature affords--the rollingocean, the majestic mountains, the beautiful lakes, the noblerivers--without money? Could the book-lover buy books, theart-lover purchase pictures? Could one have fine houses to livein, or all sorts of modern conveniences to add to one's comfort, without money? The philosophers declared contentment to behappiness, arguing that the hod-carrier was likely to be happierin his hut than the millionaire in his palace; but was not thatmere animal contentment, the happiness which knows no higherstate, the ignorance of one whose eyes have never been raised tothe heights?

No, Jefferson was no fool. He loved money for what pleasure, intellectual or physical, it could give him, but he would neverallow money to dominate his life as his father had done. Hisfather, he knew well, was not a happy man, neither happy himselfnor respected by the world. He had toiled all his life to make hisvast fortune and now he toiled to take care of it. The galleyslave led a life of luxurious ease compared with John BurkettRyder. Baited by the yellow newspapers and magazines, investigatedby State committees, dogged by process-servers, haunted bybeggars, harassed by blackmailers, threatened by kidnappers, frustrated in his attempts to bestow charity by the cry "taintedmoney"--certainly the lot of the world's richest man was far frombeing an enviable one. 

That is why Jefferson had resolved to strike out for himself. Hehad warded off the golden yoke which his father proposed to put onhis shoulders, declining the lucrative position made for him inthe Empire Trading Company, and he had gone so far as to refusealso the private income his father offered to settle on him. Hewould earn his own living. A man who has his bread buttered forhim seldom accomplishes anything he had said, and while his fatherhad appeared to be angry at this open opposition to his will, hewas secretly pleased at his son's grit. Jefferson was thoroughlyin earnest. If needs be, he would forego the great fortune thatawaited him rather than be forced into questionable businessmethods against which his whole manhood revolted. 

Jefferson Ryder felt strongly about these matters, and gave themmore thought than would be expected of most young men with hisopportunities. In fact, he was unusually serious for his age. Hewas not yet thirty, but he had done a great deal of reading, andhe took a keen interest in all the political and sociologicalquestions of the hour. In personal appearance, he was the type ofman that both men and women like--tall and athletic looking, withsmooth face and clean-cut features. He had the steel-blue eyes andthe fighting jaw of his father, and when he smiled he displayedtwo even rows of very white teeth. He was popular with men, beingmanly, frank and cordial in his relations with them, and womenadmired him greatly, although they were somewhat intimidated byhis grave and serious manner. The truth was that he was ratherdiffident with women, largely owing to lack of experience withthem. 

He had never felt the slightest inclination for business. He hadthe artistic temperament strongly developed, and his personaltastes had little in common with Wall Street and its feverishstock manipulating. When he was younger, he had dreamed of aliterary or art career. At one time he had even thought of goingon the stage. But it was to art that he turned finally. From anearly age he had shown considerable skill as a draughtsman, andlater a two years' course at the Academy of Design convinced himthat this was his true vocation. He had begun by illustrating forthe book publishers and for the magazines, meeting at first withthe usual rebuffs and disappointments, but, refusing to bediscouraged, he had kept on and soon the tide turned. His drawingsbegan to be accepted. They appeared first in one magazine, then inanother, until one day, to his great joy, he received an orderfrom an important firm of publishers for six wash-drawings to beused in illustrating a famous novel. This was the beginning of hisreal success. His illustrations were talked about almost as muchas the book, and from that time on everything was easy. He was ingreat demand by the publishers, and very soon the young artist, who had begun his career of independence on nothing a year so tospeak, found himself in a handsomely appointed studio in BryantPark, with more orders coming in than he could possibly fill, andenjoying an income of little less than $5, 000 a year. The moneywas all the sweeter to Jefferson in that he felt he had himselfearned every cent of it. This summer he was giving himself awell-deserved vacation, and he had come to Europe partly to seeParis and the other art centres about which his fellow students atthe Academy raved, but principally--although this he did notacknowledge even to himself--to meet in Paris a young woman inwhom he was more than ordinarily interested--Shirley Rossmore, daughter of Judge Rossmore, of the United States Supreme Court, who had come abroad to recuperate after the labours on her newnovel, "The American Octopus, " a book which was then the talk oftwo hemispheres. 

Jefferson had read half a dozen reviews of it in as many Americanpapers that afternoon at the _New York Herald's_ reading room inthe Avenue de l'Opéra, and he chuckled with glee as he thought howaccurately this young woman had described his father. The book hadbeen published under the pseudonym "Shirley Green, " and he alonehad been admitted into the secret of authorship. The critics allconceded that it was the book of the year, and that it portrayedwith a pitiless pen the personality of the biggest figure in thecommercial life of America. "Although, " wrote one reviewer, "theleading character in the book is given another name, there can beno doubt that the author intended to give to the world a vivid penportrait of John Burkett Ryder. She has succeeded in presenting aremarkable character-study of the most remarkable man of histime. "

He was particularly pleased with the reviews, not only for MissRossmore's sake, but also because his own vanity was gratified. Hadhe not collaborated on the book to the extent of acquainting theauthor with details of his father's life, and his characteristics, which no outsider could possibly have learned? There had been nodisloyalty to his father in doing this. Jefferson admired hisfather's smartness, if he could not approve his methods. He didnot consider the book an attack on his father, but rather apowerfully written pen picture of an extraordinary man. 

Jefferson had met Shirley Rossmore two years before at a meetingof the Schiller Society, a pseudo-literary organization gotten upby a lot of old fogies for no useful purpose, and at whose monthlymeetings the poet who gave the society its name was probably thelast person to be discussed. He had gone out of curiosity, anxiousto take in all the freak shows New York had to offer, and he hadbeen introduced to a tall girl with a pale, thoughtful face andfirm mouth. She was a writer, Miss Rossmore told him, and this washer first visit also to the evening receptions of the SchillerSociety. Half apologetically she added that it was likely to beher last, for, frankly, she was bored to death. But she explainedthat she had to go to these affairs, as she found them useful ingathering material for literary use. She studied types andeccentric characters, and this seemed to her a capital huntingground. Jefferson, who, as a rule, was timid with girls andavoided them, found this girl quite unlike the others he hadknown. Her quiet, forceful demeanour appealed to him strongly, andhe lingered with her, chatting about his work, which had so manyinterests in common with her own, until refreshments were served, when the affair broke up. This first meeting had been followed bya call at the Rossmore residence, and the acquaintance had kept upuntil Jefferson, for the first time since he came to manhood, wassurprised and somewhat alarmed at finding himself strangely andunduly interested in a person of the opposite sex. 

The young artist's courteous manner, his serious outlook on life, his high moral principles, so rarely met with nowadays in youngmen of his age and class, could hardly fail to appeal to Shirley, whose ideals of men had been somewhat rudely shattered by thoseshe had hitherto met. Above all, she demanded in a man therefinement of the true gentleman, together with strength ofcharacter and personal courage. That Jefferson Ryder came up tothis standard she was soon convinced. He was certainly agentleman: his views on a hundred topics of the hour expressed innumerous conversations assured her as to his principles, while aglance at his powerful physique left no doubt possible as to hiscourage. She rightly guessed that this was no _poseur_ trying tomake an impression and gain her confidence. There was anunmistakable ring of sincerity in all his words, and his struggleat home with his father, and his subsequent brave and successfulfight for his own independence and self-respect, more thansubstantiated all her theories. And the more Shirley let her minddwell on Jefferson Ryder and his blue eyes and serious manner, themore conscious she became that the artist was encroaching moreupon her thoughts and time than was good either for her work orfor herself. 

So their casual acquaintance grew into a real friendship andcomradeship. Further than that Shirley promised herself it shouldnever go. Not that Jefferson had given her the slightest hint thathe entertained the idea of making her his wife one day, only shewas sophisticated enough to know the direction in which run theminds of men who are abnormally interested in one girl, and longbefore this Shirley had made up her mind that she would nevermarry. Firstly, she was devoted to her father and could not bearthe thought of ever leaving him; secondly, she was fascinated byher literary work and she was practical enough to know thatmatrimony, with its visions of slippers and cradles, would befatal to any ambition of that kind. She liked Jeffersonimmensely--more, perhaps, than any man she had yet met--and shedid not think any the less of him because of her resolve not toget entangled in the meshes of Cupid. In any case he had not askedher to marry him--perhaps the idea was far from his thoughts. Meantime, she could enjoy his friendship freely without fear ofembarrassing entanglements. 

When, therefore, she first conceived the idea of portraying in theguise of fiction the personality of John Burkett Ryder, theColossus of finance whose vast and ever-increasing fortune wasfast becoming a public nuisance, she naturally turned to Jeffersonfor assistance. She wanted to write a book that would be talkedabout, and which at the same time would open the eyes of thepublic to this growing peril in their midst--this monster ofinsensate and unscrupulous greed who, by sheer weight of hisill-gotten gold, was corrupting legislators and judges and tryingto enslave the nation. The book, she argued, would perform apublic service in awakening all to the common danger. Jeffersonfully entered into her views and had furnished her with theinformation regarding his father that she deemed of value. Thebook had proven a success beyond their most sanguine expectations, and Shirley had come to Europe for a rest after the many wearymonths of work that it took to write it. 

The acquaintance of his son with the daughter of Judge Rossmorehad not escaped the eagle eye of Ryder, Sr. , and much to thefinancier's annoyance, and even consternation, he had ascertainedthat Jefferson was a frequent caller at the Rossmore home. Heimmediately jumped to the conclusion that this could mean only onething, and fearing what he termed "the consequences of the insanityof immature minds, " he had summoned Jefferson peremptorily to hispresence. He told his son that all idea of marriage in thatquarter was out of the question for two reasons: One was thatJudge Rossmore was his most bitter enemy, the other was that hehad hoped to see his son, his destined successor, marry a woman ofwhom he, Ryder, Sr. , could approve. He knew of such a woman, onewho would make a far more desirable mate than Miss Rossmore. Healluded, of course, to Kate Roberts, the pretty daughter of hisold friend, the Senator. The family interests would benefit bythis alliance, which was desirable from every point of view. Jefferson had listened respectfully until his father had finishedand then grimly remarked that only one point of view had beenoverlooked--his own. He did not care for Miss Roberts; he did notthink she really cared for him. The marriage was out of thequestion. Whereupon Ryder, Sr. , had fumed and raged, declaringthat Jefferson was opposing his will as he always did, and endingwith the threat that if his son married Shirley Rossmore withouthis consent he would disinherit him. 

Jefferson was cogitating on these incidents of the last few monthswhen suddenly a feminine voice which he quickly recognised calledout in English:

"Hello! Mr. Ryder. "

He looked up and saw two ladies, one young, the other middle aged, smiling at him from an open _fiacre_ which had drawn up to thecurb. Jefferson jumped from his seat, upsetting his chair andstartling two nervous Frenchmen in his hurry, and hastened out, hat in hand. 

"Why, Miss Rossmore, what are you doing out driving?" he asked. "You know you and Mrs. Blake promised to dine with me to-night. Iwas coming round to the hotel in a few moments. "

Mrs. Blake was a younger sister of Shirley's mother. Her husbandhad died a few years previously, leaving her a small income, andwhen she had heard of her niece's contemplated trip to Europe shehad decided to come to Paris to meet her and incidentally tochaperone her. The two women were stopping at the Grand Hotelclose by, while Jefferson had found accommodations at the Athénée. 

Shirley explained. Her aunt wanted to go to the dressmaker's, andshe herself was most anxious to go to the Luxembourg Gardens tohear the music. Would he take her? Then they could meet Mrs. Blakeat the hotel at seven o'clock and all go to dinner. Was hewilling?

Was he? Jefferson's face fairly glowed. He ran back to his tableon the _terrasse_ to settle for his Vermouth, astonished thewaiter by not stopping to notice the short change he gave him, andrushed back to the carriage. 

A dirty little Italian girl, shrewd enough to note the young man'sattention to the younger of the American women, wheedled up to thecarriage and thrust a bunch of flowers in Jefferson's face. 

"_Achetez des fleurs, monsieur, pour la jolie dame?_"

Down went Jefferson's hand in his pocket and, filling the child'shand with small silver, he flung the flowers in the carriage. Thenhe turned inquiringly to Shirley for instructions so he coulddirect the _cocher_. Mrs. Blake said she would get out here. Herdressmaker was close by, in the Rue Auber, and she would walk backto the hotel to meet them at seven o'clock. Jefferson assisted herto alight and escorted her as far as the _porte-cochère_ of themodiste's, a couple of doors away. When he returned to thecarriage, Shirley had already told the coachman where to go. Hegot in and the _fiacre_ started. 

"Now, " said Shirley, "tell me what you have been doing withyourself all day. "

Jefferson was busily arranging the faded carriage rug aboutShirley, spending more time in the task perhaps than wasabsolutely necessary, and she had to repeat the question. 

"Doing?" he echoed with a smile, "I've been doing twothings--waiting impatiently for seven o'clock and incidentallyreading the notices of your book. "

CHAPTER IV

"Tell me, what do the papers say?"

Settling herself comfortably back in the carriage, Shirleyquestioned Jefferson with eagerness, even anxiety. She had beenimpatiently awaiting the arrival of the newspapers from "home, "for so much depended on this first effort. She knew her book hadbeen praised in some quarters, and her publishers had written herthat the sales were bigger every day, but she was curious to learnhow it had been received by the reviewers. 

In truth, it had been no slight achievement for a young writer ofher inexperience, a mere tyro in literature, to attract so muchattention with her first book. The success almost threatened toturn her head, she had told her aunt laughingly, although she wassure it could never do that. She fully realized that it was thesubject rather than the skill of the narrator that counted in thebook's success, also the fact that it had come out at a timelymoment, when the whole world was talking of the Money Peril. Hadnot President Roosevelt, in a recent sensational speech, declaredthat it might be necessary for the State to curb the colossalfortunes of America, and was not her hero, John Burkett Ryder, therichest of them all? Any way they looked at it, the success of thebook was most gratifying. 

While she was an attractive, aristocratic-looking girl, ShirleyRossmore had no serious claims to academic beauty. Her featureswere irregular, and the firm and rather thin mouth lines disturbedthe harmony indispensable to plastic beauty. Yet there was in herface something far more appealing--soul and character. The face ofthe merely beautiful woman expresses nothing, promises nothing. Itpresents absolutely no key to the soul within, and often there isno soul within to have a key to. Perfect in its outlines andcoloring, it is a delight to gaze upon, just as is a flawlesspiece of sculpture, yet the delight is only fleeting. One soongrows satiated, no matter how beautiful the face may be, becauseit is always the same, expressionless and soulless. "Beauty isonly skin deep, " said the philosopher, and no truer dictum wasever uttered. The merely beautiful woman, who possesses onlybeauty and nothing else, is kept so busy thinking of her looks, and is so anxious to observe the impression her beauty makes onothers, that she has neither the time nor the inclination formatters of greater importance. Sensible men, as a rule, do notlose their hearts to women whose only assets are their good looks. They enjoy a flirtation with them, but seldom care to make themtheir wives. The marrying man is shrewd enough to realize thatdomestic virtues will be more useful in his household economy thanall the academic beauty ever chiselled out of block marble. 

Shirley was not beautiful, but hers was a face that never failedto attract attention. It was a thoughtful and interesting face, with an intellectual brow and large, expressive eyes, the face ofa woman who had both brain power and ideals, and yet who, at thesame time, was in perfect sympathy with the world. She was fair incomplexion, and her fine brown eyes, alternately reflective andalert, were shaded by long dark lashes. Her eyebrows weredelicately arched, and she had a good nose. She wore her hair welloff the forehead, which was broader than in the average woman, suggesting good mentality. Her mouth, however, was her strongestfeature. It was well shaped, but there were firm lines about itthat suggested unusual will power. Yet it smiled readily, and whenit did there was an agreeable vision of strong, healthy-lookingteeth of dazzling whiteness. She was a little over medium heightand slender in figure, and carried herself with that unmistakableair of well-bred independence that bespeaks birth and culture. Shedressed stylishly, and while her gowns were of rich material, andof a cut suggesting expensive modistes, she was always so quietlyattired and in such perfect taste, that after leaving her onecould never recall what she had on. 

At the special request of Shirley, who wanted to get a glimpse ofthe Latin Quarter, the driver took a course down the Avenue del'Opéra, that magnificent thoroughfare which starts at the Opéraand ends at the Théâtre Français, and which, like many others thatgo to the beautifying of the capital, the Parisians owe to themuch-despised Napoleon III. The cab, Jefferson told her, wouldskirt the Palais Royal and follow the Rue de Rivoli until it cameto the Châtelet, when it would cross the Seine and drive up theBoulevard St. Michel--the students' boulevard--until it reachedthe Luxembourg Gardens. Like most of his kind, the _cocher_ knewless than nothing of the art of driving, and he ran a reckless, zig-zag flight, in and out, forcing his way through a confusingmaze of vehicles of every description, pulling first to the right, then to the left, for no good purpose that was apparent, andaverting only by the narrowest of margins half a dozen badcollisions. At times the _fiacre_ lurched in such alarming fashionthat Shirley was visibly perturbed, but when Jefferson assured herthat all Paris cabs travelled in this crazy fashion and nothingever happened, she was comforted. 

"Tell me, " he repeated, "what do the papers say about the book?"

"Say?" he echoed. "Why, simply that you've written the biggestbook of the year, that's all!"

"Really! Oh, do tell me all they said!" She was fairly excitednow, and in her enthusiasm she grasped Jefferson's broad, sunburnthand which was lying outside the carriage rug. He tried to appearunconscious of the contact, which made his every nerve tingle, ashe proceeded to tell her the gist of the reviews he had read thatafternoon. 

"Isn't that splendid!" she exclaimed, when he had finished. Thenshe added quickly:

"I wonder if your father has seen it?"

Jefferson grinned. He had something on his conscience, and thiswas a good opportunity to get rid of it. He replied laconically:

"He probably has read it by this time. I sent him a copy myself. "

The instant the words were out of his mouth he was sorry, forShirley's face had changed colour. 

"You sent him a copy of 'The American Octopus'?" she cried. "Thenhe'll guess who wrote the book. "

"Oh, no, he won't, " rejoined Jefferson calmly. "He has no idea whosent it to him. I mailed it anonymously. "

Shirley breathed a sigh of relief. It was so important that heridentity should remain a secret. As daughter of a Supreme Courtjudge she had to be most careful. She would not embarrass herfather for anything in the world. But it was smart of Jefferson tohave sent Ryder, Sr. , the book, so she smiled graciously on hisson as she asked:

"How do you know he got it? So many letters and packages are sentto him that he never sees himself. "

"Oh, he saw your book all right, " laughed Jefferson. "I was aroundthe house a good deal before sailing, and one day I caught him inthe library reading it. "

They both laughed, feeling like mischievous children who hadplayed a successful trick on the hokey-pokey man. Jefferson notedhis companion's pretty dimples and fine teeth, and he thought howattractive she was, and stronger and stronger grew the idea withinhim that this was the woman who was intended by Nature to sharehis life. Her slender hand still covered his broad, sunburnt one, and he fancied he felt a slight pressure. But he was mistaken. Notthe slightest sentiment entered into Shirley's thoughts ofJefferson. She regarded him only as a good comrade with whom shehad secrets she confided in no one else. To that extent and tothat extent alone he was privileged above other men. Suddenly heasked her:

"Have you heard from home recently?"

A soft light stole into the girl's face. Home! Ah, that was allshe needed to make her cup of happiness full. Intoxicated withthis new sensation of a first literary success, full of the keenpleasure this visit to the beautiful city was giving her, bubblingover with the joy of life, happy in the almost daily companionshipof the man she liked most in the world after her father, there wasonly one thing lacking--home! She had left New York only a monthbefore, and she was homesick already. Her father she missed most. She was fond of her mother, too, but the latter, being somewhat ofa nervous invalid, had never been to her quite what her father hadbeen. The playmate of her childhood, companion of her girlhood, her friend and adviser in womanhood, Judge Rossmore was to hisdaughter the ideal man and father. Answering Jefferson's questionshe said:

"I had a letter from father last week. Everything was going on athome as when I left. Father says he misses me sadly, and thatmother is ailing as usual. "

She smiled, and Jefferson smiled too. They both knew by experiencethat nothing really serious ailed Mrs. Rossmore, who was a gooddeal of a hypochondriac, and always so filled with aches and painsthat, on the few occasions when she really felt well, she wasgenuinely alarmed. 

The _fiacre_ by this time had emerged from the Rue de Rivoli andwas rolling smoothly along the fine wooden pavement in front ofthe historic Conciergerie prison where Marie Antoinette wasconfined before her execution. Presently they recrossed the Seine, and the cab, dodging the tram car rails, proceeded at a smart paceup the "Boul' Mich', " which is the familiar diminutive bestowed bythe students upon that broad avenue which traverses the very heartof their beloved _Quartier Latin_. On the left frowned thescholastic walls of the learned Sorbonne, in the distance toweredthe majestic dome of the Panthéon where Rousseau, Voltaire andHugo lay buried. 

Like most of the principal arteries of the French capital, theboulevard was generously lined with trees, now in full bloom, andthe sidewalks fairly seethed with a picturesque throng in whichmingled promiscuously frivolous students, dapper shop clerks, sober citizens, and frisky, flirtatious little _ouvrières_, theselast being all hatless, as is characteristic of the workgirlclass, but singularly attractive in their neat black dresses anddainty low-cut shoes. There was also much in evidence another typeof female whose extravagance of costume and boldness of mannerloudly proclaimed her ancient profession. 

On either side of the boulevard were shops and cafés, mostlycafés, with every now and then a _brasserie_, or beer hall. Seatedin front of these establishments, taking their ease as if beersampling constituted the only real interest in their lives, werehundreds of students, reckless and dare-devil, and suggestingalmost anything except serious study. They all wore frock coatsand tall silk hats, and some of the latter were wonderfulspecimens of the hatter's art. A few of the more eccentricstudents had long hair down to their shoulders, and wore baggypeg-top trousers of extravagant cut, which hung in loose foldsover their sharp-pointed boots. On their heads were queer plughats with flat brims. 

Shirley laughed outright and regretted that she did not have herkodak to take back to America some idea of their grotesqueappearance, and she listened with amused interest as Jeffersonexplained that these men were notorious _poseurs_, aping the dressand manners of the old-time student as he flourished in the daysof Randolph and Mimi and the other immortal characters of Murger'sBohemia. Nobody took them seriously except themselves, and for themost part they were bad rhymesters of decadent verse. Shirley wasastonished to see so many of them busily engaged smokingcigarettes and imbibing glasses of a pale-green beverage, whichJefferson told her was absinthe. 

"When do they read?" she asked. "When do they attend lectures?"

"Oh, " laughed Jefferson, "only the old-fashioned students taketheir studies seriously. Most of the men you see there are fromthe provinces, seeing Paris for the first time, and having theirfling. Incidentally they are studying life. When they have sowntheir wild oats and learned all about life--provided they arestill alive and have any money left--they will begin to studybooks. You would be surprised to know how many of these young men, who have been sent to the University at a cost of goodness knowswhat sacrifices, return to their native towns in a few monthswrecked in body and mind, without having once set foot in alecture room, and, in fact, having done nothing except inscribetheir names on the rolls. "

Shirley was glad she knew no such men, and if she ever married andhad a son she would pray God to spare her that grief andhumiliation. She herself knew something about the sacrificesparents make to secure a college education for their children. Herfather had sent her to Vassar. She was a product of themuch-sneered-at higher education for women, and all her life shewould be grateful for the advantages given her. Her liberaleducation had broadened her outlook on life and enabled her toaccomplish the little she had. When she graduated her father hadleft her free to follow her own inclinations. She had little tastefor social distractions, and still she could not remain idle. Fora time she thought of teaching to occupy her mind, but she knewshe lacked the necessary patience, and she could not endure thedrudgery of it, so, having won honors at college in Englishcomposition, she determined to try her hand at literature. Shewrote a number of essays and articles on a hundred differentsubjects which she sent to the magazines, but they all came backwith politely worded excuses for their rejection. But Shirley keptright on. She knew she wrote well; it must be that her subjectswere not suitable. So she adopted new tactics, and persevereduntil one day came a letter of acceptance from the editor of oneof the minor magazines. They would take the article offered--asketch of college life--and as many more in similar vein as MissRossmore could write. This success had been followed by otheracceptances and other commissions, until at the present time shewas a well-known writer for the leading publications. Her greatambition had been to write a book, and "The American Octopus, "published under an assumed name, was the result. 

The cab stopped suddenly in front of beautiful gilded gates. Itwas the Luxembourg, and through the tall railings they caught aglimpse of well-kept lawns, splashing fountains and richly dressedchildren playing. From the distance came the stirring strains of abrass band. 

The coachman drove up to the curb and Jefferson jumped down, assisting Shirley to alight. In spite of Shirley's protestJefferson insisted on paying. 

"_Combien?_" he asked the _cocher_. 

The jehu, a surly, thick-set man with a red face and small, cunning eyes like a ferret, had already sized up his fares for two_sacré_ foreigners whom it would be flying in the face ofProvidence not to cheat, so with unblushing effrontery heanswered:

"_Dix francs, Monsieur!_" And he held up ten fingers by way ofillustration. 

Jefferson was about to hand up a ten-franc piece when Shirleyindignantly interfered. She would not submit to such animposition. There was a regular tariff and she would pay that andnothing more. So, in better French than was at Jefferson'scommand, she exclaimed:

"Ten francs? _Pourquoi dix francs?_ I took your cab by the hour. It is exactly two hours. That makes four francs. " Then toJefferson she added: "Give him a franc for a _pourboire_--thatmakes five francs altogether. "

Jefferson, obedient to her superior wisdom, held out a five-francpiece, but the driver shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. He sawthat the moment had come to bluster so he descended from his boxfully prepared to carry out his bluff. He started in to abuse thetwo Americans whom in his ignorance he took for English. 

"Ah, you _sale Anglais_! You come to France to cheat the poorFrenchman. You make me work all afternoon and then pay me nothing. Not with this coco! I know my rights and I'll get them, too. "

All this was hurled at them in a patois French, almostunintelligible to Shirley, and wholly so to Jefferson. All he knewwas that the fellow's attitude was becoming unbearably insolentand he stepped forward with a gleam in his eye that might havestartled the man had he not been so busy shaking his fist atShirley. But she saw Jefferson's movement and laid her hand on hisarm. 

"No, no, Mr. Ryder--no scandal, please. Look, people are beginningto come up! Leave him to me. I know how to manage him. "

With this the daughter of a United States Supreme Court judgeproceeded to lay down the law to the representative of the mostlazy and irresponsible class of men ever let loose in the streetsof a civilised community. Speaking with an air of authority, shesaid:

"Now look here, my man, we have no time to bandy words here withyou. I took your cab at 3. 30. It is now 5. 30. That makes twohours. The rate is two francs an hour, or four francs in all. Weoffer you five francs, and this includes a franc _pourboire_. Ifthis settlement does not suit you we will get into your cab andyou will drive us to the nearest police-station where the argumentcan be continued. "

The man's jaw dropped. He was obviously outclassed. Theseforeigners knew the law as well as he did. He had no desire toaccept Shirley's suggestion of a trip to the police-station, wherehe knew he would get little sympathy, so, grumbling and givingvent under his breath to a volley of strange oaths, he grabbedviciously at the five-franc piece Jefferson held out and, mountinghis box, drove off. 

Proud of their victory, they entered the gardens, following thesweet-scented paths until they came to where the music was. Theband of an infantry regiment was playing, and a large crowd hadgathered. Many people were sitting on the chairs provided forvisitors for the modest fee of two sous; others were promenadinground and round a great circle having the musicians in its centre. The dense foliage of the trees overhead afforded a perfect shelterfrom the hot rays of the sun, and the place was so inviting andinteresting, so cool and so full of sweet perfumes and sounds, appealing to and satisfying the senses, that Shirley wished theyhad more time to spend there. She was very fond of a good brassband, especially when heard in the open air. They were playingStrauss's _Blue Danube_, and the familiar strains of thedelightful waltz were so infectious that both were seized by adesire to get up and dance. 

There was constant amusement, too, watching the crowd, with itsmany original and curious types. There were serious collegeprofessors, with gold-rimmed spectacles, buxom _nounous_ in theiruniform cloaks and long ribbon streamers, nicely dressed childrenromping merrily but not noisily, more queer-looking students inshabby frock coats, tight at the waist, trousers too short, andcomical hats, stylishly dressed women displaying the latestfashions, brilliantly uniformed army officers strutting proudly, dangling their swords--an attractive and interesting crowd, sodifferent, thought the two Americans, from the cheap, evil-smelling, ill-mannered mob of aliens that invades their own Central Park thedays when there is music, making it a nuisance instead of a pleasure. Here everyone belonged apparently to the better class; the womenand children were richly and fashionably dressed, the officerslooked smart in their multi-coloured uniforms, and, no matter howone might laugh at the students, there was an atmosphere ofgood-breeding and refinement everywhere which Shirley was notaccustomed to see in public places at home. A sprinkling ofworkmen and people of the poorer class were to be seen here andthere, but they were in the decided minority. Shirley, herself adaughter of the Revolution, was a staunch supporter of theimmortal principles of Democracy and of the equality of man beforethe law. But all other talk of equality was the greatest sophistryand charlatanism. There could be no real equality so long as somepeople were cultured and refined and others were uneducated andvulgar. Shirley believed in an aristocracy of brains and soap. Sheinsisted that no clean person, no matter how good a democrat, should be expected to sit close in public places to persons whowere not on speaking terms with the bath-tub. In America thisfoolish theory of a democracy, which insists on throwing allclasses, the clean and the unclean, promiscuously together, waspositively revolting, making travelling in the public vehiclesalmost impossible, and it was not much better in the public parks. In France--also a Republic--where they likewise paraded conspicuouslythe clap-trap "Egalité, Fraternité, " they managed these things farbetter. The French lower classes knew their place. They did notape the dress, nor frequent the resorts of those above them in thesocial scale. The distinction between the classes was plainly andproperly marked, yet this was not antagonistic to the ideal oftrue democracy; it had not prevented the son of a peasant frombecoming President of the French Republic. Each district in Parishad its own amusement, its own theatres, its own parks. It was nota question of capital refusing to fraternize with labour, but thevery natural desire of persons of refinement to mingle with cleanpeople rather than to rub elbows with the Great Unwashed. 

"Isn't it delightful here?" said Shirley. "I could stay hereforever, couldn't you?"

"With you--yes, " answered Jefferson, with a significant smile. 

Shirley tried to look angry. She strictly discouraged theseconventional, sentimental speeches which constantly flung her sexin her face. 

"Now, you know I don't like you to talk that way, Mr. Ryder. It'smost undignified. Please be sensible. "

Quite subdued, Jefferson relapsed into a sulky silence. Presentlyhe said:

"I wish you wouldn't call me Mr. Ryder. I meant to ask you thisbefore. You know very well that you've no great love for the name, and if you persist you'll end by including me in your hatred ofthe hero of your book. "

Shirley looked at him with amused curiosity. 

"What do you mean?" she asked. "What do you want me to call you?"

"Oh, I don't know, " he stammered, rather intimidated by thisself-possessed young woman who looked him calmly through andthrough. "Why not call me Jefferson? Mr. Ryder is so formal. "

Shirley laughed outright, a merry, unrestrained peal of honestlaughter, which made the passers-by turn their heads and smile, too, commenting the while on the stylish appearance of the twoAmericans whom they took for sweethearts. After all, reasonedShirley, he was right. They had been together now nearly everyhour in the day for over a month. It was absurd to call him Mr. Ryder. So, addressing him with mock gravity, she said:

"You're right, Mr. Ryder--I mean Jefferson. You're quite right. You are Jefferson from this time on, only remember"--here sheshook her gloved finger at him warningly--"mind you behaveyourself! No more such sentimental speeches as you made just now. "

Jefferson beamed. He felt at least two inches taller, and at thatmoment he would not have changed places with any one in the world. To hide the embarrassment his gratification caused him he pulledout his watch and exclaimed:

"Why, it's a quarter past six. We shall have all we can do to getback to the hotel and dress for dinner. "

Shirley rose at once, although loath to leave. 

"I had no idea it was so late, " she said. "How the time flies!"Then mockingly she added: "Come, Jefferson--be a good boy and finda cab. "

They passed out of the Gardens by the gate facing the Théâtre del'Odéon, where there was a long string of _fiacres_ for hire. Theygot into one and in fifteen minutes they were back at the GrandHotel. 

At the office they told Shirley that her aunt had already come inand gone to her room, so she hurried upstairs to dress for dinnerwhile Jefferson proceeded to the Hotel de l'Athénée on the samemission. He had still twenty-five minutes before dinner time, andhe needed only ten minutes for a wash and to jump into his dresssuit, so, instead of going directly to his hotel, he sat down atthe Café de la Paix. He was thirsty, and calling for a vermouth_frappé_ he told the _garçon_ to bring him also the Americanpapers. 

The crowd on the boulevard was denser than ever. The businessoffices and some of the shops were closing, and a vast army ofemployés, homeward bound, helped to swell the sea of humanity thatpushed this way and that. 

But Jefferson had no eyes for the crowd. He was thinking ofShirley. What singular, mysterious power had this girl acquiredover him? He, who had scoffed at the very idea of marriage only afew months before, now desired it ardently, anxiously! Yes, thatwas what his life lacked--such a woman to be his companion andhelpmate! He loved her--there was no doubt of that. His everythought, waking and sleeping, was of her, all his plans for thefuture included her. He would win her if any man could. But didshe care for him? Ah, that was the cruel, torturing uncertainty!She appeared cold and indifferent, but perhaps she was only tryinghim. Certainly she did not seem to dislike him. 

The waiter returned with the vermouth and the newspapers. All hecould find were the London _Times_, which he pronounced T-e-e-m-s, and some issues of the _New York Herald_. The papers were nearly amonth old, but he did not care for that. Jefferson idly turnedover the pages of the _Herald_. His thoughts were still running onShirley, and he was paying little attention to what he wasreading. Suddenly, however, his eyes rested on a headline whichmade him sit up with a start. It read as follows:

 JUDGE ROSSMORE IMPEACHED

 JUSTICE OF THE SUPREME COURT TO BE TRIED ON BRIBERY CHARGES

The despatch, which was dated Washington two weeks back, went onto say that serious charges affecting the integrity of JudgeRossmore had been made the subject of Congressional inquiry, andthat the result of the inquiry was so grave that a demand forimpeachment would be at once sent to the Senate. It added that thecharges grew out of the recent decision in the Great NorthwesternMining Company case, it being alleged that Judge Rossmore hadaccepted a large sum of money on condition of his handing down adecision favourable to the company. 

Jefferson was thunderstruck. He read the despatch over again tomake sure there was no mistake. No, it was very plain--JudgeRossmore of Madison Avenue. But how preposterous, what a calumny!The one judge on the bench at whom one could point and say withabsolute conviction: "There goes an honest man!" And this judgewas to be tried on a charge of bribery! What could be the meaningof it? Something terrible must have happened since Shirley'sdeparture from home, that was certain. It meant her immediatereturn to the States and, of course, his own. He would see whatcould be done. He would make his father use his great influence. But how could he tell Shirley? Impossible, he could not! She wouldnot believe him if he did. She would probably hear from home insome other way. They might cable. In any case he would say nothingyet. He paid for his vermouth and hurried away to his hotel todress. 

It was just striking seven when he re-entered the courtyard of theGrand Hotel. Shirley and Mrs. Blake were waiting for him. Jefferson suggested having dinner at the Café de Paris, butShirley objected that as the weather was warm it would be morepleasant to dine in the open air, so they finally decided on thePavilion d'Armonville where there was music and where they couldhave a little table to themselves in the garden. 

They drove up the stately Champs Elysées, past the monumental Arcde Triomphe, and from there down to the Bois. All were singularlyquiet. Mrs. Blake was worrying about her new gown, Shirley wastired, and Jefferson could not banish from his mind the terriblenews he had just read. He avoided looking at Shirley until thelatter noticed it and thought she must have offended him in someway. She was more sorry than she would have him know, for, withall her apparent coldness, Jefferson was rapidly becoming veryindispensable to her happiness. 

They dined sumptuously and delightfully with all the luxury ofsurroundings and all the delights of cooking that the Frenchculinary art can perfect. A single glass of champagne had putShirley in high spirits and she had tried hard to communicate someof her good humour to Jefferson who, despite all her efforts, remained quiet and preoccupied. Finally losing patience she askedhim bluntly:

"Jefferson, what's the matter with you to-night? You've been sulkyas a bear all evening. "

Pleased to see she had not forgotten their compact of theafternoon in regard to his name, Jefferson relaxed somewhat andsaid apologetically:

"Excuse me, I've been feeling a bit seedy lately. I think I needanother sea voyage. That's the only time when I feel reallyfirst-class--when I'm on the water. "

The mention of the sea started Shirley to talk about her futureplans. She wasn't going back to America until September. She hadarranged to make a stay of three weeks in London and then shewould be free. Some friends of hers from home, a man and his wifewho owned a steam yacht, were arranging a trip to the Mediterranean, including a run over to Cairo. They had asked her and Mrs. Blake togo and she was sure they would ask Jefferson, too. Would he go?

There was no way out of it. Jefferson tried to work up someenthusiasm for this yachting trip, which he knew very well couldnever come off, and it cut him to the heart to see this poor girljoyously making all these preparations and plans, little dreamingof the domestic calamity which at that very moment was hangingover her head. 

 [Photo, from the play, of the Ryder household as Jefferson is introduced to Miss Green. ]

 "Father, I've changed my mind, I'm not going away. "--Act II. 

It was nearly ten o'clock when they had finished. They sat alittle longer listening to the gipsy music, weird and barbaric. Very pointedly, Shirley remarked:

"I for one preferred the music this afternoon. "

"Why?" inquired Jefferson, ignoring the petulant note in hervoice. 

"Because you were more amiable!" she retorted rather crossly. 

This was their first misunderstanding, but Jefferson said nothing. He could not tell her the thoughts and fears that had beenhaunting him all night. Soon afterward they re-entered their caband returned to the boulevards which were ablaze with light andgaiety. Jefferson suggested going somewhere else, but Mrs. Blakewas tired and Shirley, now quite irritated at what she consideredJefferson's unaccountable unsociability, declined somewhatabruptly. But she could never remain angry long, and when theysaid good-night she whispered demurely:

"Are you cross with me, Jeff?"

He turned his head away and she saw that his face was singularlydrawn and grave. 

"Cross--no. Good-night. God bless you!" he said, hoarsely gulpingdown a lump that rose in his throat. Then grasping her hand hehurried away. 

Completely mystified, Shirley and her companion turned to theoffice to get the key of their room. As the man handed it toShirley he passed her also a cablegram which had just come. Shechanged colour. She did not like telegrams. She always had a dreadof them, for with her sudden news was usually bad news. Couldthis, she thought, explain Jefferson's strange behaviour?Trembling, she tore open the envelope and read:

 _Come home at once, _

 _Mother. _

CHAPTER V

Rolling, tumbling, splashing, foaming water as far as the eyecould reach in every direction. A desolate waste, full of life, movement and colour, extending to the bleak horizon and like avast ploughed field cut up into long and high liquid ridges, allscurrying in one direction in serried ranks and with incrediblespeed as if pursued by a fearful and unseen enemy. Serenely yetboisterously, gracefully yet resistlessly, the endless wavespassed on--some small, others monstrous, with fleecy white combsrushing down their green sides like toy Niagaras and with aseething, boiling sound as when flame touches water. They went byin a stately, never ending procession, going nowhere, coming fromnowhere, but full of dignity and importance, their breasts heavingwith suppressed rage because there was nothing in their path thatthey might destroy. The dancing, leaping water reflected everyshade and tint--now a rich green, then a deep blue and again adirty gray as the sun hid for a moment behind a cloud, and as agust of wind caught the top of the combers decapitating them atone mad rush, the spray was dashed high in the air, flashing outall the prismatic colours. Here and yonder, the white caps rose, disappeared and came again, and the waves grew and then diminishedin size. Then others rose, towering, became larger, majestic, terrible; the milk-like comb rose proudly, soared a brief moment, then fell ignominiously, and the wave diminished passed onhumiliated. Over head, a few scattered cirrus clouds flittedlazily across the blue dome of heaven, while a dozen Mother Careychickens screamed hoarsely as they circled in the air. The strongand steady western breeze bore on its powerful pinions the sweetand eternal music of the wind and sea. 

Shirley stood at the rail under the bridge of the ocean greyhoundthat was carrying her back to America with all the speed of whichher mighty engines were capable. All day and all night, half nakedstokers, so grimed with oil and coal dust as to lose the slightestsemblance to human beings, feverishly shovelled coal, throwing itrapidly and evenly over roaring furnaces kept at a fierce whiteheat. The vast boilers, shaken by the titanic forces generating intheir cavern-like depths, sent streams of scalding, hissing steamthrough a thousand valves, cylinders and pistons, turning wheelsand cranks as it distributed the tremendous power which wasdriving the steel monster through the seas at the prodigious speedof four hundred miles in the twenty-four hours. Like a pulsatingheart in some living thing, the mammoth engines throbbed andpanted, and the great vessel groaned and creaked as she rose andfell to the heavy swell, and again lurched forward in obedience toeach fresh propulsion from her fast spinning screws. Out on deck, volumes of dense black smoke were pouring from four gigantic smokestacks and spread out in the sky like some endless cinder pathleading back over the course the ship had taken. 

They were four days out from port. Two days more and they wouldsight Sandy Hook, and Shirley would know the worst. She had caughtthe North German Lloyd boat at Cherbourg two days after receivingthe cablegram from New York. Mrs. Blake had insisted on comingalong in spite of her niece's protests. Shirley argued that shehad crossed alone when coming; she could go back the same way. Besides, was not Mr. Ryder returning home on the same ship? Hewould be company and protection both. But Mrs. Blake was bent onmaking the voyage. She had not seen her sister for many years and, moreover, this sudden return to America had upset her own plans. She was a poor sailor, yet she loved the ocean and this was a goodexcuse for a long trip. Shirley was too exhausted with worry tooffer further resistance and by great good luck the two women hadbeen able to secure at the last moment a cabin to themselvesamidships. Jefferson, less fortunate, was compelled, to hisdisgust, to share a stateroom with another passenger, a fat Germanbrewer who was returning to Cincinnati, and who snored so loud atnight that even the thumping of the engines was completely drownedby his eccentric nasal sounds. 

The alarming summons home and the terrible shock she hadexperienced the following morning when Jefferson showed her thenewspaper article with its astounding and heart rending news abouther father had almost prostrated Shirley. The blow was all thegreater for being so entirely unlooked for. That the story wastrue she could not doubt. Her mother would not have cabled exceptunder the gravest circumstances. What alarmed Shirley still morewas that she had no direct news of her father. For a moment herheart stood still--suppose the shock of this shameful accusationhad killed him? Her blood froze in her veins, she clenched herfists and dug her nails into her flesh as she thought of the dreadpossibility that she had looked upon him in life for the lasttime. She remembered his last kind words when he came to thesteamer to see her off, and his kiss when he said good-bye and shehad noticed a tear of which he appeared to be ashamed. The hottears welled up in her own eyes and coursed unhindered down hercheeks. 

What could these preposterous and abominable charges mean? Whatwas this lie they had invented to ruin her father? That he hadenemies she well knew. What strong man had not? Indeed, hisproverbial honesty had made him feared by all evil-doers and onone occasion they had gone so far as to threaten his life. Thisnew attack was more deadly than all--to sap and destroy hischaracter, to deliberately fabricate lies and calumnies which hadno foundation whatever. Of course, the accusation was absurd, theSenate would refuse to convict him, the entire press would espousethe cause of so worthy a public servant. Certainly, everythingwould be done to clear his character. But what was being done? Shecould do nothing but wait and wait. The suspense and anxiety wereawful. 

Suddenly she heard a familiar step behind her, and Jeffersonjoined her at the rail. The wind was due West and blowing half agale, so where they were standing--one of the most exposed partsof the ship--it was difficult to keep one's feet, to say nothingof hearing anyone speak. There was a heavy sea running, and eachapproaching wave looked big enough to engulf the vessel, but asthe mass of moving water reached the bow, the ship rose on it, light and graceful as a bird, shook off the flying spray as a catshakes her fur after an unwelcome bath, and again drove forward assteady and with as little perceptible motion as a railway train. Shirley was a fairly good sailor and this kind of weather did notbother her in the least, but when it got very rough she could notbear the rolling and pitching and then all she was good for was tolie still in her steamer chair with her eyes closed until thewater was calmer and the pitching ceased. 

"It's pretty windy here, Shirley, " shouted Jefferson, steadyinghimself against a stanchion. "Don't you want to walk a little?"

He had begun to call her by her first name quite naturally, as ifit were a matter of course. Indeed, their relations had come to bemore like those of brother and sister than anything else. Shirleywas too much troubled over the news from home to have a mind forother things, and in her distress she had turned to Jefferson foradvice and help as she would have looked to an elder brother. Hehad felt this impulse to confide in him and consult his opinionand it had pleased him more than he dared betray. He had shown herall the sympathy of which his warm, generous nature was capable, yet secretly he did not regret that events had necessitated thissudden return home together on the same ship. He was sorry forJudge Rossmore, of course, and there was nothing he would not doon his return to secure a withdrawal of the charges. That hisfather would use his influence he had no doubt. But meantime hewas selfish enough to be glad for the opportunity it gave him tobe a whole week alone with Shirley. No matter how much one may bewith people in city or country or even when stopping at the samehotel or house, there is no place in the world where two persons, especially when they are of the opposite sex, can become sointimate as on shipboard. The reason is obvious. The days are longand monotonous. There is nowhere to go, nothing to see but theocean, nothing to do but read, talk or promenade. Seclusion inone's stuffy cabin is out of the question, the public sittingrooms are noisy and impossible, only a steamer chair on deck iscomfortable and once there snugly wrapped up in a rug it issurprising how quickly another chair makes its appearancealongside and how welcome one is apt to make the intruder. 

Thus events combined with the weather conspired to bring Shirleyand Jefferson more closely together. The sea had been rough eversince they sailed, keeping Mrs. Blake confined to her stateroomalmost continuously. They were, therefore, constantly in oneanother's company, and slowly, unconsciously, there was takingroot in their hearts the germ of the only real and lastinglove--the love born of something higher than mere physicalattraction, the nobler, more enduring affection that is born ofmutual sympathy, association and companionship. 

"Isn't it beautiful?" exclaimed Shirley ecstatically. "Look atthose great waves out there! See how majestically they soar andhow gracefully they fall!"

"Glorious!" assented Jefferson sharing her enthusiasm. "There'snothing to compare with it. It's Nature's grandest spectacle. Theocean is the only place on earth that man has not defiled andspoiled. Those waves are the same now as they were on the day ofcreation. "

"Not the day of creation. You mean during the aeons of timecreation was evolving, " corrected Shirley. 

"I meant that of course, " assented Jefferson. "When one says 'day'that is only a form of speech. "

"Why not be accurate?" persisted Shirley. "It was the use of thatlittle word 'day' which has given the theologians so manysleepless nights. "

There was a roguish twinkle in her eye. She well knew that hethought as she did on metaphysical questions, but she could notresist teasing him. 

Like Jefferson, she was not a member of any church, although hernature was deeply religious. Hers was the religion the soulinculcates, not that which is learned by rote in the temple. Shewas a Christian because she thought Christ the greatest figure inworld history, and also because her own conduct of life wasmodelled upon Christian principles and virtues. She was religiousfor religion's sake and not for public ostentation. The mystery oflife awed her and while her intelligence could not accept all thedoctrines of dogmatic religion she did not go so far as Jefferson, who was a frank agnostic. She would not admit that we do not know. The longings and aspirations of her own soul convinced her of theexistence of a Supreme Being, First Cause, Divine Intelligence--callit what you will--which had brought out of chaos the wonderfulorder of the universe. The human mind was, indeed, helpless toconceive such a First Cause in any form and lay prostrate beforethe Unknown, yet she herself was an enthusiastic delver intoscientific hypothesis and the teachings of Darwin, Spencer, Haeckel had satisfied her intellect if they had failed to contenther soul. The theory of evolution as applied to life on her ownlittle planet appealed strongly to her because it accountedplausibly for the presence of man on earth. The process throughwhich we had passed could be understood by every intelligence. Theblazing satellite, violently detached from the parent sun startingon its circumscribed orbit--that was the first stage, the gradualsubsidence of the flames and the cooling of the crust--the secondstage: the gases mingling and forming water which covered theearth--the third stage; the retreating of the waters and theappearance of the land--the fourth stage; the appearance ofvegetation and animal life--the fifth stage; then, after a longinterval and through constant evolution and change the appearanceof man, which was the sixth stage. What stages still to come, whoknows? This simple account given by science was, after all, practically identical with the biblical legend!

It was when Shirley was face to face with Nature in her wildestand most primitive aspects that this deep rooted religious feelingmoved her most strongly. At these times she felt herself anotherbeing, exalted, sublimated, lifted from this little world with itspetty affairs and vanities up to dizzy heights. She had felt thesame sensation when for the first time she had viewed the gloriesof the snow clad Matterhorn, she had felt it when on a summer'snight at sea she had sat on deck and watched with fascinated awethe resplendent radiance of the countless stars, she felt it nowas she looked at the foaming, tumbling waves. 

"It is so beautiful, " she murmured as she turned to walk. The shipwas rolling a little and she took Jefferson's arm to steadyherself. Shirley was an athletic girl and had all the ease andgrace of carriage that comes of much tennis and golf playing. Barely twenty-four years old, she was still in the first flush ofyouth and health, and there was nothing she loved so much asexercise and fresh air. After a few turns on deck, there was aruddy glow in her cheeks that was good to see and many an admiringglance was cast at the young couple as they strode briskly up anddown past the double rows of elongated steamer chairs. 

They had the deck pretty much to themselves. It was only fouro'clock, too early for the appetite-stimulating walk beforedinner, and their fellow passengers were basking in the sunshine, stretched out on their chairs in two even rows like so manymummies on exhibition. Some were reading, some were dozing. Two orthree were under the weather, completely prostrated, their biliouscomplexion of a deathly greenish hue. At each new roll of theship, they closed their eyes as if resigned to the worst thatmight happen and their immediate neighbours furtively eyed each oftheir movements as if apprehensive of what any moment might bringforth. A few couples were flirting to their heart's content underthe friendly cover of the lifeboats which, as on most of thetransatlantic liners, were more useful in saving reputations thanin saving life. The deck steward was passing round tea andbiscuits, much to the disgust of the ill ones, but to the keensatisfaction of the stronger stomached passengers who on shipboardnever seem to be able to get enough to eat and drink. On thebridge, the second officer, a tall, handsome man with the pointsof his moustache trained upwards à la Kaiser Wilhelm, was stridingback and forth, every now and then sweeping the horizon with hisglass and relieving the monotony of his duties by ogling thebetter looking women passengers. 

"Hello, Shirley!" called out a voice from a heap of rugs asShirley and Jefferson passed the rows of chairs. 

They stopped short and discovered Mrs. Blake ensconced in a cozycorner, sheltered from the wind. 

"Why, aunt Milly, " exclaimed Shirley surprised. "I thought youwere downstairs. I didn't think you could stand this sea. "

"It is a little rougher than I care to have it, " responded Mrs. Blake with a wry grimace and putting her hand to her breast as ifto appease disturbing qualms. "It was so stuffy in the cabin Icould not bear it. It's more pleasant here but it's getting alittle cool and I think I'll go below. Where have you childrenbeen all afternoon?"

Jefferson volunteered to explain. 

"The children have been rhapsodizing over the beauties of theocean, " he laughed. With a sly glance at Shirley, he added, "Yourniece has been coaching me in metaphysics. "

Shirley shook her finger at him. 

"Now Jefferson, if you make fun of me I'll never talk seriouslywith you again. "

"_Wie geht es, meine damen?_"

Shirley turned on hearing the guttural salutation. It was CaptainHegermann, the commander of the ship, a big florid Saxon withgreat bushy golden whiskers and a basso voice like Edouard deReszké. He was imposing in his smart uniform and gold braid andhis manner had the self-reliant, authoritative air usual in menwho have great responsibilities and are accustomed to command. Hewas taking his afternoon stroll and had stopped to chat with hislady passengers. He had already passed Mrs. Blake a dozen timesand not noticed her, but now her pretty niece was with her, whichaltered the situation. He talked to the aunt and looked atShirley, much to the annoyance of Jefferson, who muttered thingsunder his breath. 

"When shall we be in, captain?" asked Mrs. Blake anxiously, forgetting that this was one of the questions which according toship etiquette must never be asked of the officers. 

But as long as he could ignore Mrs. Blake and gaze at ShirleyCapt. Hegermann did not mind. He answered amiably:

"At the rate we are going, we ought to sight Fire Island sometimeto-morrow evening. If we do, that will get us to our dock about 11o'clock Friday morning, I fancy. " Then addressing Shirley directhe said:

"And you, fraulein, I hope you won't be glad the voyage is over?"

Shirley sighed and a worried, anxious look came into her face. 

"Yes, Captain, I shall be very glad. It is not pleasure that isbringing me back to America so soon. "

The captain elevated his eyebrows. He was sorry the young lady hadanxieties to keep her so serious, and he hoped she would findeverything all right on her arrival. Then, politely saluting, hepassed on, only to halt again a few paces on where his bewhiskeredgallantry met with more encouragement. 

Mrs. Blake rose from her chair. The air was decidedly cooler, shewould go downstairs and prepare for dinner. Shirley said she wouldremain on deck a little longer. She was tired of walking, so whenher aunt left them she took her chair and told Jefferson to getanother. He wanted nothing better, but before seating himself hetook the rugs and wrapped Shirley up with all the solicitude of amother caring for her first born. Arranging the pillow under herhead, he asked:

"Is that comfortable?"

She nodded, smiling at him. 

"You're a good boy, Jeff. But you'll spoil me. "

"Nonsense, " he stammered as he took another chair and put himselfby her side. "As if any fellow wouldn't give his boots to do alittle job like that for you!"

She seemed to take no notice of the covert compliment. In fact, she already took it as a matter of course that Jefferson was veryfond of her. 

Did she love him? She hardly knew. Certainly she thought more ofhim than of any other man she knew and she readily believed thatshe could be with him for the rest of her life and like him betterevery day. Then, too, they had become more intimate during thelast few days. This trouble, this unknown peril had drawn themtogether. Yes, she would be sorry if she were to see Jeffersonpaying attention to another woman. Was this love? Perhaps. 

These thoughts were running through her mind as they sat thereside by side isolated from the main herd of passengers, eachsilent, watching through the open rail the foaming water as itrushed past. Jefferson had been casting furtive glances at hiscompanion and as he noted her serious, pensive face he thought howpretty she was. He wondered what she was thinking of and suddenlyinspired no doubt by the mysterious power that enables some peopleto read the thoughts of others, he said abruptly:

"Shirley, I can read your thoughts. You were thinking of me. "

She was startled for a moment but immediately recovered her selfpossession. It never occurred to her to deny it. She pondered fora moment and then replied:

"You are right, Jeff, I was thinking of you. How did you guess?"

He leaned over her chair and took her hand. She made noresistance. Her delicate, slender hand lay passively in his bigbrown one and met his grasp frankly, cordially. He whispered:

"What were you thinking of me--good or bad?"

"Good, of course. How could I think anything bad of you?"

She turned her eyes on him in wonderment. Then she went on:

"I was wondering how a girl could distinguish between the feelingshe has for a man she merely likes, and the feeling she has for aman she loves. "

Jefferson bent eagerly forward so as to lose no word that mightfall from those coveted lips. 

"In what category would I be placed?" he asked. 

"I don't quite know, " she answered, laughingly. Then seriously, she added: "Jeff, why should we act like children? Your actions, more than your words, have told me that you love me. I have knownit all along. If I have appeared cold and indifferent it isbecause"--she hesitated. 

"Because?" echoed Jefferson anxiously, as if his whole futuredepended on that reason. 

"Because I was not sure of myself. Would it be womanly orhonourable on my part to encourage you, unless I felt Ireciprocated your feelings? You are young, one day you will bevery rich, the whole world lies before you. There are plenty ofwomen who would willingly give you their love. "

"No--no!" he burst out in vigorous protest, "it is you I want, Shirley, you alone. "

Grasping her hand more closely, he went on, passion vibrating inevery note of his voice. "I love you, Shirley. I've loved you fromthe very first evening I met you. I want you to be my wife. "

Shirley looked straight up into the blue eyes so eagerly bent downon hers, so entreating in their expression, and in a gentle voicefull of emotion she answered:

"Jefferson, you have done me the greatest honour a man can do awoman. Don't ask me to answer you now. I like you very much--Imore than like you. Whether it is love I feel for you--that I havenot yet determined. Give me time. My present trouble and then myliterary work--"

"I know, " agreed Jefferson, "that this is hardly the time to speakof such matters. Your father has first call on your attention. Butas to your literary work. I do not understand. "

"Simply this. I am ambitious. I have had a little success--justenough to crave for more. I realize that marriage would put anextinguisher on all aspirations in that direction. "

"Is marriage so very commonplace?" grumbled Jefferson. 

"Not commonplace, but there is no room in marriage for a womanhaving personal ambitions of her own. Once married her duty is toher husband and her children--not to herself. "

"That is right, " he replied; "but which is likely to give yougreater joy--a literary success or a happy wifehood? When you havespent your best years and given the public your best work theywill throw you over for some new favorite. You'll find yourself anold woman with nothing more substantial to show as your life workthan that questionable asset, a literary reputation. How manyliterary reputations to-day conceal an aching heart and find itdifficult to make both ends meet? How different with the woman whomarried young and obeys Nature's behest by contributing her shareto the process of evolution. Her life is spent basking in theaffection of her husband and the chubby smiles of her dimpledbabes, and when in the course of time she finds herself in thetwilight of her life, she has at her feet a new generation of herown flesh and blood. Isn't that better than a literary reputation?"

He spoke so earnestly that Shirley looked at him in surprise. Sheknew he was serious but she had not suspected that he thought sodeeply on these matters. Her heart told her that he was utteringthe true philosophy of the ages. She said:

"Why, Jefferson, you talk like a book. Perhaps you are right, Ihave no wish to be a blue stocking and deserted in my old age, farfrom it. But give me time to think. Let us first ascertain theextent of this disaster which has overtaken my father. Then if youstill care for me and if I have not changed my mind, " here sheglanced slyly at him, "we will resume our discussion. "

Again she held out her hand which he had released. 

"Is it a bargain?" she asked. 

"It's a bargain, " he murmured, raising the white hand to his lips. A fierce longing rose within him to take her in his arms and kisspassionately the mouth that lay temptingly near his own, but hiscourage failed him. After all, he reasoned, he had not yet theright. 

A few minutes later they left the deck and went downstairs todress for dinner. That same evening they stood again at the railwatching the mysterious phosphorescence as it sparkled in themoonlight. Her thoughts travelling faster than the ship, Shirleysuddenly asked:

"Do you really think Mr. Ryder will use his influence to help myfather?"

Jefferson set his jaw fast and the familiar Ryder gleam came intohis eyes as he responded:

"Why not? My father is all powerful. He has made and unmade judgesand legislators and even presidents. Why should he not be able toput a stop to these preposterous proceedings? I will go to himdirectly we land and we'll see what can be done. "

So the time on shipboard had passed, Shirley alternately buoyed upwith hope and again depressed by the gloomiest forebodings. Thefollowing night they passed Fire Island and the next day the hugesteamer dropped anchor at Quarantine. 

CHAPTER VI

A month had passed since the memorable meeting of the directors ofthe Southern and Transcontinental Railroad in New York and duringthat time neither John Burkett Ryder nor Judge Rossmore had beenidle. The former had immediately set in motion the machinery hecontrolled in the Legislature at Washington, while the judgeneglected no step to vindicate himself before the public. 

Ryder, for reasons of his own--probably because he wished to makethe blow the more crushing when it did fall--had insisted on theproceedings at the board meeting being kept a profound secret andsome time elapsed before the newspapers got wind of the comingCongressional inquiry. No one had believed the stories about JudgeRossmore but now that a quasi-official seal had been set on thecurrent gossip, there was a howl of virtuous indignation from thejournalistic muck rakers. What was the country coming to? theycried in double leaded type. After the embezzling by lifeinsurance officers, the rascality of the railroads, the looting ofcity treasuries, the greed of the Trusts, the grafting of thelegislators, had arisen a new and more serious scandal--thecorruption of the Judiciary. The last bulwark of the nation hadfallen, the country lay helpless at the mercy of legalizedsandbaggers. Even the judges were no longer to be trusted, themost respected one among them all had been unable to resist thetempter. The Supreme Court, the living voice of the Constitution, was honeycombed with graft. Public life was rotten to the core!

Neither the newspapers nor the public stopped to ascertain thetruth or the falsity of the charges against Judge Rossmore. It wassufficient that the bribery story furnished the daily sensationwhich newspaper editors and newspaper readers must have. The worldis ever more prompt to believe ill rather than good of a man, andno one, except in Rossmore's immediate circle of friends, entertained the slightest doubt of his guilt. It was commonknowledge that the "big interests" were behind the proceedings, and that Judge Rossmore was a scapegoat, sacrificed by the Systembecause he had been blocking their game. If Rossmore had reallyaccepted the bribe, and few now believed him spotless, he deservedall that was coming to him. Senator Roberts was very active inWashington preparing the case against Judge Rossmore. The latterbeing a democrat and "the interests" controlling a Republicanmajority in the House, it was a foregone conclusion that theinquiry would be against him, and that a demand would at once bemade upon the Senate for his impeachment. 

Almost prostrated by the misfortune which had so suddenly andunexpectedly come upon him, Judge Rossmore was like a mandemented. His reason seemed to be tottering, he spoke and actedlike a man in a dream. Naturally he was entirely incapacitated forwork and he had applied to Washington to be temporarily relievedfrom his judicial duties. He was instantly granted a leave ofabsence and went at once to his home in Madison Avenue, where heshut himself up in his library, sitting for hours at his deskwrestling with documents and legal tomes in a pathetic endeavourto find some way out, trying to elude this net in which unseenhands had entangled him. 

What an end to his career! To have struggled and achieved for halfa century, to have built up a reputation year by year, as a manbuilds a house brick by brick, only to see the whole crumble tohis feet like dust! To have gained the respect of the country, tohave made a name as the most incorruptible of public servants andnow to be branded as a common bribe taker! Could he be dreaming?It was too incredible! What would his daughter say--his Shirley?Ah, the thought of the expression of incredulity and wonder on herface when she heard the news cut him to the heart like a knifethrust. Yet, he mused, her very unwillingness to believe it shouldreally be his consolation. Ah, his wife and his child--they knewhe had been innocent of wrong doing. The very idea was ridiculous. At most he had been careless. Yes, he was certainly to blame. Heought to have seen the trap so carefully prepared and into whichhe had walked as if blindfolded. That extra $50, 000 worth ofstock, on which he had never received a cent interest, had beenthe decoy in a carefully thought out plot. They, the plotters, well knew how ignorant he was of financial matters and he had beenan easy victim. Who would believe his story that the stock hadbeen sent to him with a plausibly-worded letter to the effect thatit represented a bonus on his own investment? Now he came to thinkof it, calmly and reasonably, he would not believe it himself. Asusual, he had mislaid or destroyed the secretary's letter andthere was only his word against the company's books to substantiatewhat would appear a most improbable if not impossible occurrence. 

It was his conviction of his own good faith that made his presentdilemma all the more cruel. Had he really been a grafter, had hereally taken the stock as a bribe he would not care so much, forthen he would have foreseen and discounted the chances ofexposure. Yes, there was no doubt possible. He was the victim of aconspiracy, there was an organized plot to ruin him, to get himout of the way. The "interests" feared him, resented his judicialdecisions and they had halted at nothing to accomplish theirpurpose. How could he fight them back, what could he do to protecthimself? He had no proofs of a conspiracy, his enemies worked inthe dark, there was no way in which he could reach them or knowwho they were. 

He thought of John Burkett Ryder. Ah, he remembered now. Ryder wasthe man who had recommended the investment in Alaskan stock. Ofcourse, why did he not think of it before? He recollected that atthe time he had been puzzled at receiving so much stock and he hadmentioned it to Ryder, adding that the secretary had told him itwas customary. Oh, why had he not kept the secretary's letter? ButRyder would certainly remember it. He probably still had his twoletters in which he spoke of making the investment. If thoseletters could be produced at the Congressional inquiry they wouldclear him at once. So losing no time, and filled with renewed hopehe wrote to the Colossus a strong, manly letter which would havemelted an iceberg, urging Mr. Ryder to come forward now at thiscritical time and clear him of this abominable charge, or in anycase to kindly return the two letters he must have in hispossession, as they would go far to help him at the trial. Threedays passed and no reply from Ryder. On the fourth came a politebut frigid note from Mr. Ryder's private secretary. Mr. Ryder hadreceived Judge Rossmore's letter and in reply begged to state thathe had a vague recollection of some conversation with the judge inregard to investments, but he did not think he had advised thepurchase of any particular stock, as that was something he neverdid on principle, even with his most intimate friends. He had nowish to be held accountable in case of loss, etc. As to the letterwhich Judge Rossmore mentioned as having written to Mr. Ryder inregard to having received more stock than he had bought, of thatMr. Ryder had no recollection whatsoever. Judge Rossmore wasprobably mistaken as to the identity of his correspondent. Heregretted he could not be of more service to Judge Rossmore, andremained his very obedient servant. 

It was very evident that no help was to be looked for in thatquarter. There was even decided hostility in Ryder's reply. Couldit be true that the financier was really behind these attacks uponhis character, was it possible that one man merely to make moremoney would deliberately ruin his fellow man whose hand he hadgrasped in friendship? He had been unwilling to believe it whenhis friend ex-judge Stott had pointed to Ryder as the author ofall his misfortunes, but this unsympathetic letter with itsfalsehoods, its lies plainly written all over its face, was proofenough. Yes, there was now no doubt possible. John Burkett Ryderwas his enemy and what an enemy! Many a man had committed suicidewhen he had incurred the enmity of the Colossus. Judge Rossmore, completely discouraged, bowed his head to the inevitable. 

His wife, a nervous, sickly woman, was helpless to comfort or aidhim. She had taken their misfortune as a visitation of aninscrutable Deity. She knew, of course, that her husband waswholly innocent of the accusations brought against him and if hischaracter could be cleared and himself rehabilitated before theworld, she would be the first to rejoice. But if it pleased theAlmighty in His wisdom to sorely try her husband and herself andinflict this punishment upon them it was not for the finite mindto criticise the ways of Providence. There was probably some goodreason for the apparent cruelty and injustice of it which theirearthly understanding failed to grasp. Mrs. Rossmore found muchcomfort in this philosophy, which gave a satisfactory ending toboth ends of the problem, and she was upheld in her view by therector of the church which she had attended regularly each Sundayfor the past five and twenty years. Christian resignation in thehour of trial, submission to the will of Heaven were, declared herspiritual adviser, the fundamental principles of religion. Hecould only hope that Mrs. Rossmore would succeed in imbuing herhusband with her Christian spirit. But when the judge's wifereturned home and saw the keen mental distress of the man who hadbeen her companion for twenty-five long years, the comforter inher sorrows, the joy and pride of her young wifehood, she forgotall about her smug churchly consoler, and her heart went out toher husband in a spontaneous burst of genuine human sympathy. Yes, they must do something at once. Where men had failed perhaps awoman could do something. She wanted to cable at once for Shirley, who was everything in their household--organizer, manager, adviser--but the judge would not hear of it. No, his daughter wasenjoying her holiday in blissful ignorance of what had occurred. He would not spoil it for her. They would see; perhaps thingswould improve. But he sent for his old friend ex-Judge Stott. 

They were life-long friends, having become acquainted nearlythirty years ago at the law school, at the time when both wereyoung men about to enter on a public career. Stott, who wasRossmore's junior, had begun as a lawyer in New York and soonacquired a reputation in criminal practice. He afterwards becameassistant district attorney and later, when a vacancy occurred inthe city magistrature, he was successful in securing theappointment. On the bench he again met his old friend Rossmore andthe two men once more became closely intimate. The regular courthours, however, soon palled on a man of Judge Stott's nervoustemperament and it was not long before he retired to take up oncemore his criminal practice. He was still a young man, not yetfifty, and full of vigor and fight. He had a blunt manner but hisheart was in the right place, and he had a record as clean as hisclose shaven face. He was a hard worker, a brilliant speaker andone of the cleverest cross-examiners at the bar. This was the manto whom Judge Rossmore naturally turned for legal assistance. 

Stott was out West when he first heard of the proceedings againsthis old friend, and this indignity put upon the only really honestman in public life whom he knew, so incensed him that he wasalready hurrying back to his aid when the summons reached him. 

Meantime, a fresh and more serious calamity had overwhelmed JudgeRossmore. Everything seemed to combine to break the spirit of thisman who had dared defy the power of organized capital. Hardly hadthe news of the Congressional inquiry been made public, than thefinancial world was startled by an extraordinary slump in WallStreet. There was nothing in the news of the day to justify adecline, but prices fell and fell. The bears had it all their ownway, the big interests hammered stocks all along the line, "coppers" especially being the object of attack. The market closedfeverishly and the next day the same tactics were pursued. Fromthe opening, on selling orders coming from no one knew where, prices fell to nothing, a stampede followed and before long itbecame a panic. Pandemonium reigned on the floor of the StockExchange. White faced, dishevelled brokers shouted and struggledlike men possessed to execute the orders of their clients. Bigfinancial houses, which stood to lose millions on a fallingmarket, rallied and by rush orders to buy, attempted to stem thetide, but all to no purpose. One firm after another went by theboard unable to weather the tempest, until just before closingtime, the stock ticker announced the failure of the GreatNorthwestern Mining Co. The drive in the market had beenprincipally directed against its securities, and after vainlyendeavoring to check the bear raid, it had been compelled todeclare itself bankrupt. It was heavily involved, assets nil, stock almost worthless. It was probable that the creditors wouldnot see ten cents on the dollar. Thousands were ruined and JudgeRossmore among them. All the savings of a lifetime--nearly $55, 000were gone. He was practically penniless, at a time when he neededmoney most. He still owned his house in Madison Avenue, but thatwould have to go to settle with his creditors. By the timeeverything was paid there would only remain enough for a modestcompetence. As to his salary, of course he could not touch that solong as this accusation was hanging over his head. And if he wereimpeached it would stop altogether. The salary, therefore, was notto be counted on. They must manage as best they could and livemore cheaply, taking a small house somewhere in the outskirts ofthe city where he could prepare his case quietly withoutattracting attention. 

Stott thought this was the best thing they could do and hevolunteered to relieve his friend by taking on his own hands allthe arrangements of the sale of the house and furniture, whichoffer the judge accepted only too gladly. Meantime, Mrs. Rossmorewent to Long Island to see what could be had, and she found at thelittle village of Massapequa just what they were looking for--acommodious, neatly-furnished two-story cottage at a modest rental. Of course, it was nothing like what they had been accustomed to, but it was clean and comfortable, and as Mrs. Rossmore said, rather tactlessly, beggars cannot be choosers. Perhaps it wouldnot be for long. Instant possession was to be had, so deposit waspaid on the spot and a few days later the Rossmores left theirmansion on Madison Avenue and took up their residence inMassapequa, where their advent created quite a fluster in localsocial circles. 

Massapequa is one of the thousand and one flourishing communitiesscattered over Long Island, all of which are apparently modelledafter the same pattern. Each is an exact duplicate of itsneighbour in everything except the name--the same untidy railroadstation, the same sleepy stores, the same attractive little frameresidences, built for the most part on the "Why pay Rent? Own yourown Home" plan. A healthy boom in real estate imparts plenty oflife to them all and Massapequa is particularly famed as being theplace where the cat jumped to when Manhattan had to seek an outletfor its congested population and ever-increasing army of homeseekers. Formerly large tracts of flat farm lands, only sparselyshaded by trees, Massapequa, in common with other villages of itskind, was utterly destitute of any natural attractions. There wasthe one principal street leading to the station, with a fewscattered stores on either side, a church and a bank. Happily, too, for those who were unable to survive the monotony of theplace, it boasted of a pretty cemetery. There were also a numberof attractive cottages with spacious porches hung with honeysuckleand of these the Rossmores occupied one of the less pretentiouskind. 

But although Massapequa, theoretically speaking, was situated onlya stone's throw from the metropolis, it might have been situatedin the Great Sahara so far as its inhabitants took any activeinterest in the doings of gay Gotham. Local happenings naturallyhad first claim upon Massapequa's attention--the prowess of thelocal baseball team, Mrs. Robinson's tea party and the highlyexciting sessions of the local Pinochle Club furnishing food forunlimited gossip and scandal. The newspapers reached the village, of course, but only the local news items aroused any realinterest, while the women folk usually restricted their readingsto those pages devoted to Daily Hints for the Home, Mrs. Sayre'slearned articles on Health and Beauty and Fay Stanton's DailyFashions. It was not surprising, therefore, that the fame of JudgeRossmore and the scandal in which he was at present involved hadnot penetrated as far as Massapequa and that the natives wereconsiderably mystified as to who the new arrivals in their midstmight be. 

Stott had been given a room in the cottage so that he might benear at hand to work with the judge in the preparation of thedefence, and he came out from the city every evening. It was nowJune. The Senate would not take action until it convened inDecember, but there was a lot of work to be done and no time to belost. 

The evening following the day of their arrival they were sittingon the porch enjoying the cool evening air after dinner. The judgewas smoking. He was not a slave to the weed, but he enjoyed aquiet pipe after meals, claiming that it quieted his nerves andenabled him to think more clearly. Besides, it was necessary tokeep at bay the ubiquitous Long Island mosquito. Mrs. Rossmore hadremained for a moment in the dining-room to admonish Eudoxia, their new and only maid-of-all-work, not to wreck too much of thecrockery when she removed the dinner dishes. Suddenly Stott, whowas perusing an evening paper, asked:

"By the way, where's your daughter? Does she know of this radicalchange in your affairs?"

Judge Rossmore started. By what mysterious agency had this manpenetrated his own most intimate thoughts? He was himself thinkingof Shirley that very moment, and by some inexplicable means--telepathymodern psychologists called it--the thought current had crossed toStott, whose mind, being in full sympathy, was exactly attuned toreceive it. Removing the pipe from his mouth the judge replied:

"Shirley's in Paris. Poor girl, I hadn't the heart to tell her. She has no idea of what's happened. I didn't want to spoil herholiday. "

He was silent for a moment. Then, after a few more puffs he addedconfidentially in a low tone, as if he did not care for his wifeto hear:

"The truth is, Stott, I couldn't bear to have her return now. Icouldn't look my own daughter in the face. "

A sound as of a great sob which he had been unable to control cutshort his speech. His eyes filled with tears and he began to smokefuriously as if ashamed of this display of emotion. Stott, blowinghis nose with suspicious vigor, replied soothingly:

"You mustn't talk like that. Everything will come out all right, of course. But I think you are wrong not to have told yourdaughter. Her place is here at your side. She ought to be toldeven if only in justice to her. If you don't tell her someone elsewill, or, what's worse, she'll hear of it through the newspapers. "

"Ah, I never thought of that!" exclaimed the judge, visiblyperturbed at the suggestion about the newspapers. 

"Don't you agree with me?" demanded Stott, appealing to Mrs. Rossmore, who emerged from the house at that instant. "Don't youthink your daughter should be informed of what has happened?"

"Most assuredly I do, " answered Mrs. Rossmore determinedly. "Thejudge wouldn't hear of it, but I took the law into my own hands. I've cabled for her. "

"You cabled for Shirley?" cried the judge incredulously. He was sounaccustomed to seeing his ailing, vacillating wife do anything onher own initiative and responsibility that it seemed impossible. "You cabled for Shirley?" he repeated. 

"Yes, " replied Mrs. Rossmore triumphantly and secretly pleasedthat for once in her life she had asserted herself. "I cabledyesterday. I simply couldn't bear it alone any longer. "

"What did you say?" inquired the judge apprehensively. 

"I just told her to come home at once. To-morrow; we ought to getan answer. "

Stott meantime had been figuring on the time of Shirley's probablearrival. If the cablegram had been received in Paris the previousevening it would be too late to catch the French boat. The NorthGerman Lloyd steamer was the next to leave and it touched atCherbourg. She would undoubtedly come on that. In a week at mostshe would be here. Then it became a question as to who should goto meet her at the dock. The judge could not go, that was certain. It would be too much of an ordeal. Mrs. Rossmore did not know thelower part of the city well, and had no experience in meetingocean steamships. There was only one way out--would Stott go? Ofcourse he would and he would bring Shirley back with him toMassapequa. So during the next few days while Stott and the judgetoiled preparing their case, which often necessitated brief tripsto the city, Mrs. Rossmore, seconded with sulky indifference byEudoxia, was kept busy getting a room ready for her daughter'sarrival. 

Eudoxia, who came originally from County Cork, was an Irish ladywith a thick brogue and a husky temper. She was amiable enough solong as things went to her satisfaction, but when they did notsuit her she was a termagant. She was neither beautiful norgraceful, she was not young nor was she very clean. Her usualcondition was dishevelled, her face was all askew, and when shedressed up she looked like a valentine. Her greatest weakness wasa propensity for smashing dishes, and when reprimanded she wouldthreaten to take her traps and skidoo. This news of the arrival ofa daughter failed to fill her with enthusiasm. Firstly, it meantmore work; secondly she had not bargained for it. When she tookthe place it was on the understanding that the family consistedonly of an elderly gentleman and his wife, that there waspractically no work, good wages, plenty to eat, with the privilegeof an evening out when she pleased. Instead of this millennium shesoon found Stott installed as a permanent guest and now a daughterwas to be foisted on her. No wonder hard working girls weregetting sick and tired of housework!

As already hinted there was no unhealthy curiosity amongMassapequans regarding their new neighbors from the city but someof the more prominent people of the place considered it their dutyto seek at least a bowing acquaintance with the Rossmores bypaying them a formal visit. So the day following the conversationon the porch when the judge and Stott had gone to the city on oneof their periodical excursions, Mrs. Rossmore was startled to seea gentleman of clerical appearance accompanied by a tall, angularwoman enter their gate and ring the bell. 

The Rev. Percival Pontifex Deetle and his sister Miss Jane Deetleprided themselves on being leaders in the best social circle inMassapequa. The incumbent of the local Presbyterian church, theRev. Deetle, was a thin, sallow man of about thirty-five. He had adiminutive face with a rather long and very pointed nose whichgave a comical effect to his physiognomy. Theology was written allover his person and he wore the conventional clerical hat which, owing to his absurdly small face, had the unfortunate appearanceof being several sizes too large for him. Miss Deetle was a gauntand angular spinster who had an unhappy trick of talking with ajerk. She looked as if she were constantly under self-restraintand was liable at any moment to explode into a fit of rage andonly repressed herself with considerable effort. As they came upthe stoop, Eudoxia, already instructed by Mrs. Rossmore, was readyfor them. With her instinctive respect for the priestly garb shewas rather taken back on seeing a clergyman, but she brazened itout:

"Mr. Rossmore's not home. " Then shaking her head, she added: "Theydon't see no visitors. "

Unabashed, the Rev. Deetle drew a card from a case and handing itto the girl said pompously:

"Then we will see Mrs. Rossmore. I saw her at the window as wecame along. Here, my girl, take her this card. Tell her that theReverend Pontifex Deetle and Miss Deetle have called to presenttheir compliments. "

Brushing past Eudoxia, who vainly tried to close the door, theRev. Deetle coolly entered the house, followed by his sister, andtook a seat in the parlour. 

"She'll blame me for this, " wailed the girl, who had not budgedand who stood there fingering the Rev. Deetle's card. 

"Blame you? For what?" demanded the clerical visitor in surprise. 

"She told me to say she was out--but I can't lie to a minister ofthe Gospel--leastways not to his face. I'll give her your card, sir. "

The reverend caller waited until Eudoxia had disappeared, then herose and looked around curiously at the books and pictures. 

"Hum--not a Bible or a prayer book or a hymn book, not a pictureor anything that would indicate the slightest reverence for holythings. "

He picked up a few papers that were lying on the table and afterglancing at them threw them down in disgust. 

"Law reports--Wall Street reports--the god of this world. Evidently very ordinary people, Jane. "

He looked at his sister, but she sat stiffly and primly in herchair and made no reply. He repeated:

"Didn't you hear me? I said they are ordinary people. "

"I've no doubt, " retorted Miss Deetle, "and as such they will notthank us for prying into their affairs. "

"Prying, did you say?" said the parson, resenting this impliedcriticism of his actions. 

"Just plain prying, " persisted his sister angrily. "I don't seewhat else it is. "

The Rev. Pontifex straightened up and threw out his chest as hereplied:

"It is protecting my flock. As Leader of the Unified All SoulsBaptismal Presbytery, it is my duty to visit the widows andorphans of this community. "

"These people are neither widows or orphans, " objected MissDeetle. 

"They are strangers, " insisted the Rev. Pontifex, "and it is myduty to minister to them--if they need it. Furthermore it is myduty to my congregation to find out who is in their midst. No lessthan three of the Lady Trustees of my church have asked me who andwhat these people are and whence they came. "

"The Lady Trustees are a pack of old busybodies, " growled hissister. 

Her brother raised his finger warningly. 

"Jane, do you know you are uttering a blasphemy? These Rossmorepeople have been here two weeks. They have visited no one, no onevisits them. They have avoided a temple of worship, they haveacted most mysteriously. Who are they? What are they hiding? Is itfair to my church, is it fair to my flock? It is not a bereavement, for they don't wear mourning. I'm afraid it may be some hiddenscandal--"

Further speculations on his part were interrupted by the entranceof Mrs. Rossmore, who thought rightly that the quickest way to getrid of her unwelcome visitors was to hurry downstairs as quicklyas possible. 

"Miss Deetle--Mr. Deetle. I am much honoured, " was her not tooeffusive greeting. 

The Reverend Pontifex, anxious to make a favourable impression, was all smiles and bows. The idea of a possible scandal had forthe moment ceased to worry him. 

"The honour is ours, " he stammered. "I--er--we--er--my sister Janeand I called to--"

"Won't you sit down?" said Mrs. Rossmore, waving him to a chair. He danced around her in a manner that made her nervous. 

"Thank you so much, " he said with a smile that was meant to beamiable. He took a seat at the further end of the room and anawkward pause followed. Finally his sister prompted him:

"You wanted to see Mrs. Rossmore about the festival, " she said. 

"Oh, of course, I had quite forgotten. How stupid of me. The factis, Mrs. Rossmore, " he went on, "we are thinking of giving afestival next week--a festival with strawberries--and our trusteesthought, in fact it occurred to me also that if you and Mr. Rossmore would grace the occasion with your presence it would giveus an opportunity--so to speak--get better acquainted, and er--"

Another awkward pause followed during which he sought inspirationby gazing fixedly in the fireplace. Then turning on Mrs. Rossmoreso suddenly that the poor woman nearly jumped out of her chair heasked:

"Do you like strawberries?"

"It's very kind of you, " interrupted Mrs. Rossmore, glad of theopportunity to get a word in edgeways. "Indeed, I appreciate yourkindness most keenly but my husband and I go nowhere, nowhere atall. You see we have met with reverses and--"

"Reverses, " echoed the clerical visitor, with difficulty keepinghis seat. This was the very thing he had come to find out and hereit was actually thrown at him. He congratulated himself on hiscleverness in having inspired so much confidence and thought withglee of his triumph when he returned with the full story to theLady Trustees. Simulating, therefore, the deepest sympathy hetried to draw his hostess out:

"Dear me, how sad! You met with reverses. "

Turning to his sister, who was sitting in her corner like apetrified mummy, he added:

"Jane, do you hear? How inexpressibly sad! They have met withreverses!"

He paused, hoping that Mrs. Rossmore would go on to explain justwhat their reverses had been, but she was silent. As a gentle hinthe said softly:

"Did I interrupt you, Madam?"

"Not at all, I did not speak, " she answered. 

Thus baffled, he turned the whites of his eyes up to the ceilingand said:

"When reverses come we naturally look for spiritual consolation. My dear Mrs. Rossmore, in the name of the Unified All SoulsBaptismal Presbytery I offer you that consolation. "

Mrs. Rossmore looked helplessly from one to the other embarrassedas to what to say. Who were these strangers that intruded on herprivacy offering a consolation she did not want? Miss Deetle, asif glad of the opportunity to joke at her brother's expense, saidexplosively:

"My dear Pontifex, you have already offered a strawberry festivalwhich Mrs. Rossmore has been unable to accept. "

"Well, what of it?" demanded Mr. Deetle, glaring at his sister forthe irrelevant interruption. 

"You are both most kind, " murmured Mrs. Rossmore; "but we couldnot accept in any case. My daughter is returning home from Parisnext week. "

"Ah, your daughter--you have a daughter?" exclaimed Mr. Deetle, grasping at the slightest straw to add to his stock of information. "Coming from Paris, too! Such a wicked city!"

He had never been to Paris, he went on to explain, but he had readenough about it and he was grateful that the Lord had chosenMassapequa as the field of his labours. Here at least, life wassweet and wholesome and one's hopes of future salvation fairlyreasonable. He was not a brilliant talker when the conversationextended beyond Massapequa but he rambled on airing his views onthe viciousness of the foreigner in general, until Mrs. Rossmore, utterly wearied, began to wonder when they would go. Finally hefell back upon the weather. 

"We are very fortunate in having such pleasant weather, don't youthink so, Madam? Oh, Massapequa is a lovely spot, isn't it? Wethink it's the one place to live in. We are all one happy family. That's why my sister and I called to make your acquaintance. "

"You are very good, I'm sure. I shall tell my husband you came andhe'll be very pleased. "

Having exhausted his conversational powers and seeing that furtherefforts to pump Mrs. Rossmore were useless, the clerical visitorrose to depart:

"It looks like rain. Come, Jane, we had better go. Good-bye, Madam, I am delighted to have made this little visit and I trustyou will assure Mr. Rossmore that All Souls Unified BaptismalPresbytery always has a warm welcome for him. "

They bowed and Mrs. Rossmore bowed. The agony was over and as thedoor closed on them Mrs. Rossmore gave a sigh of relief. 

That evening Stott and the judge came home earlier than usual andfrom their dejected appearance Mrs. Rossmore divined bad news. Thejudge was painfully silent throughout the meal and Stott wasunusually grave. Finally the latter took her aside and broke it toher gently. In spite of their efforts and the efforts of theirfriends the Congressional inquiry had resulted in a findingagainst the judge and a demand had already been made upon theSenate for his impeachment. They could do nothing now but fight itin the Senate with all the influence they could muster. It wasgoing to be hard but Stott was confident that right would prevail. After dinner as they were sitting in silence on the porch, eachmeasuring the force of this blow which they had expected yet hadalways hoped to ward off, the crunching sound of a bicycle washeard on the quiet country road. The rider stopped at their gateand came up the porch holding out an envelope to the judge, who, guessing the contents, had started forward. He tore it open. Itwas a cablegram from Paris and read as follows:

 _Am sailing on the Kaiser Wilhelm to-day. _

 _Shirley. _

CHAPTER VII

The pier of the North German Lloyd Steamship Company, at Hoboken, fairly sizzled with bustle and excitement. The Kaiser Wilhelm hadarrived at Sandy Hook the previous evening and was now lying outin midstream. She would tie up at her dock within half an hour. Employés of the line, baggage masters, newspaper reporters, CustomHouse officers, policemen, detectives, truck drivers, expressmen, longshoremen, telegraph messengers and anxious friends of incomingpassengers surged back and forth in seemingly hopeless confusion. The shouting of orders, the rattling of cab wheels, the shriekingof whistles was deafening. From out in the river came the deeptoned blasts of the steamer's siren, in grotesque contrast withthe strident tooting of a dozen diminutive tugs which, puffing andsnorting, were slowly but surely coaxing the leviathan into herberth alongside the dock. The great vessel, spick and span after acoat of fresh paint hurriedly put on during the last day of thevoyage, bore no traces of gale, fog and stormy seas through whichshe had passed on her 3, 000 mile run across the ocean. Conspicuouson the bridge, directing the docking operations, stood Capt. Hegermann, self satisfied and smiling, relieved that theresponsibilities of another trip were over, and at his side, sharing the honours, was the grizzled pilot who had brought theship safely through the dangers of Gedney's Channel, his shabbypea jacket, old slouch hat, top boots and unkempt beard standingout in sharp contrast with the immaculate white duck trousers, thewhite and gold caps and smart full dress uniforms of the ship'sofficers. The rails on the upper decks were seen to be lined withpassengers, all dressed in their shore going clothes, some wavinghandkerchiefs at friends they already recognized, all impatientlyawaiting the shipping of the gangplank. 

Stott had come early. They had received word at Massapequa the daybefore that the steamer had been sighted off Fire Island and thatshe would be at her pier the next morning at 10 o'clock. Stottarrived at 9. 30 and so found no difficulty in securing a frontposition among the small army of people, who, like himself, hadcome down to meet friends. 

As the huge vessel swung round and drew closer, Stott easilypicked out Shirley. She was scanning eagerly through a binocularthe rows of upturned faces on the dock, and he noted that a lookof disappointment crossed her face at not finding the object ofher search. She turned and said something to a lady in black andto a man who stood at her side. Who they might be Stott had noidea. Fellow passengers, no doubt. One becomes so intimate onshipboard; it seems a friendship that must surely last a lifetime, whereas--the custom officers have not finished rummaging throughyour trunks when these easily-made steamer friends are alreadyforgotten. Presently Shirley took another look and her glass soonlighted on him. Instantly she recognized her father's old friend. She waved a handkerchief and Stott raised his hat. Then she turnedquickly and spoke again to her friends, whereupon they all movedin the direction of the gangplank, which was already beinglowered. 

Shirley was one of the first to come ashore. Stott was waiting forher at the foot of the gangplank and she threw her arms round hisneck and kissed him. He had known her ever since she was a littletot in arms, and bystanders who noticed them meet had no doubtthat they were father and daughter. Shirley was deeply moved; agreat lump in her throat seemed to choke her utterance. So far shehad been able to bear up, but now that home was so near her heartfailed her. She had hoped to find her father on the dock. Why hadhe not come? Were things so bad then? She questioned Judge Stottanxiously, fearfully. 

He reassured her. Both her mother and father were well. It was toolong a trip for them to make, so he had volunteered. 

"Too long a trip, " echoed Shirley puzzled. "This is not far fromour house. Madison Avenue is no distance. That could not have keptfather away. "

"You don't live on Madison Avenue any longer. The house and itscontents have been sold, " replied Stott gravely, and in a fewwords he outlined the situation as it was. 

Shirley listened quietly to the end and only the increasing pallorof her face and an occasional nervous twitching at the corner ofher mouth betrayed the shock that this recital of her father'smisfortunes was to her. Ah, this she had little dreamed of! Yetwhy not? It was but logic. When wrecked in reputation, one mightas well be wrecked in fortune, too. What would their future be, how could that proud, sensitive man her father bear thishumiliation, this disgrace? To be condemned to a life ofobscurity, social ostracism, and genteel poverty! Oh, the thoughtwas unendurable! She herself could earn money, of course. If herliterary work did not bring in enough, she could teach and whatshe earned would help out. Certainly her parents should never wantfor anything so long as she could supply it. She thought bitterlyhow futile now were plans of marriage, even if she had everentertained such an idea seriously. Henceforward, she did notbelong to herself. Her life must be devoted to clearing herfather's name. These reflections were suddenly interrupted by thevoice of Mrs. Blake calling out:

"Shirley, where have you been? We lost sight of you as we left theship, and we have been hunting for you ever since. "

Her aunt, escorted by Jefferson Ryder, had gone direct to theCustoms desk and in the crush they had lost trace of her. Shirleyintroduced Stott. 

"Aunt Milly, this is Judge Stott, a very old friend of father's. Mrs. Blake, my mother's sister. Mother will be surprised to seeher. They haven't met for ten years. "

"This visit is going to be only a brief one, " said Mrs. Blake. "Ireally came over to chaperone Shirley more than anything else. "

"As if I needed chaperoning with Mr. Ryder for an escort!"retorted Shirley. Then presenting Jefferson to Stott she said:

"This is Mr. Jefferson Ryder--Judge Stott. Mr. Ryder has been verykind to me abroad. "

The two men bowed and shook hands. 

"Any relation to J. B. ?" asked Stott good humouredly. 

"His son--that's all, " answered Jefferson laconically. 

Stott now looked at the young man with more interest. Yes, therewas a resemblance, the same blue eyes, the righting jaw. But howon earth did Judge Rossmore's daughter come to be travelling inthe company of John Burkett Ryder's son? The more he thought of itthe more it puzzled him, and while he cogitated Shirley and hercompanions wrestled with the United States Customs, and wereundergoing all the tortures invented by Uncle Sam to punishAmericans for going abroad. 

Shirley and Mrs. Blake were fortunate in securing an inspector whowas fairly reasonable. Of course, he did not for a moment believetheir solemn statement, already made on the ship, that they hadnothing dutiable, and he rummaged among the most intimate garmentsof their wardrobe in a wholly indecent and unjustifiable manner, but he was polite and they fared no worse than all the other womenvictims of this, the most brutal custom house inspection system inthe world. 

Jefferson had the misfortune to be allotted an inspector who washalf seas over with liquor and the man was so insolent andthreatening in manner that it was only by great self-restraintthat Jefferson controlled himself. He had no wish to create ascandal on the dock, nor to furnish good "copy" for the keen-eyed, long-eared newspaper reporters who would be only too glad of suchan opportunity for a "scare head, " But when the fellow compelledhim to open every trunk and valise and then put his grimy hands tothe bottom and by a quick upward movement jerked the entirecontents out on the dock he interfered:

"You are exceeding your authority, " he exclaimed hotly. "How dareyou treat my things in this manner?"

The drunken uniformed brute raised his bloodshot, bleary eyes andtook Jefferson in from tip to toe. He clenched his fist as ifabout to resort to violence, but he was not so intoxicated as tobe quite blind to the fact that this passenger had massive squareshoulders, a determined jaw and probably a heavy arm. Socontenting himself with a sneer, he said:

"This ain't no country for blooming English dooks. You're not inEngland now you know. This is a free country. See?"

"I see this, " replied Jefferson, furious "that you are a drunkenruffian and a disgrace to the uniform you wear. I shall reportyour conduct immediately, " with which he proceeded to the Customsdesk to lodge a complaint. 

He might have spared himself the trouble. The silver haired, distinguished looking old officer in charge knew that Jefferson'scomplaint was well founded, he knew that this particular inspectorwas a drunkard and a discredit to the government which employedhim, but at the same time he also knew that political influencehad been behind his appointment and that it was unsafe to do morethan mildly reprimand him. When, therefore, he accompaniedJefferson to the spot where the contents of the trunks layscattered in confusion all over the dock, he merely expostulatedwith the officer, who made some insolent reply. Seeing that it wasuseless to lose further time, Jefferson repacked his trunks asbest he could and got them on a cab. Then he hurried over toShirley's party and found them already about to leave the pier. 

"Come and see us, Jeff, " whispered Shirley as their cab drovethrough the gates. 

"Where, " he asked, "Madison Avenue?"

She hesitated for a moment and then replied quickly:

"No, we are stopping down on Long Island for the Summer--at a cutelittle place called Massapequa. Run down and see us. "

He raised his hat and the cab drove on. 

There was greater activity in the Rossmore cottage at Massapequathan there had been any day since the judge and his wife went tolive there. Since daybreak Eudoxia had been scouring and polishingin honour of the expected arrival and a hundred times Mrs. Rossmore had climbed the stairs to see that everything was as itshould be in the room which had been prepared for Shirley. It wasnot, however, without a passage at arms that Eudoxia consented toconsider the idea of an addition to the family. Mrs. Rossmore hadsaid to her the day before:

"My daughter will be here to-morrow, Eudoxia. "

A look expressive of both displeasure and astonishment marred theclassic features of the hireling. Putting her broom aside andplacing her arms akimbo she exclaimed in an injured tone:

"And it's a dayther you've got now? So it's three in family youare! When I took the place it's two you tould me there was!"

"Well, with your kind permission, " replied Mrs. Rossmore, "therewill be three in future. There is nothing in the Constitution ofthe United States that says we can't have a daughter withoutconsulting our help, is there?"

The sarcasm of this reply did not escape even the dull-edged witsof the Irish drudge. She relapsed into a dignified silence and afew minutes later was discovered working with some show ofenthusiasm. 

The judge was nervous and fidgety. He made a pretence to read, butit was plain to see that his mind was not on his book. He keptleaving his chair to go and look at the clock; then he would laythe volume aside and wander from room to room like a lost soul. His thoughts were on the dock at Hoboken. 

By noon every little detail had been attended to and there wasnothing further to do but sit and wait for the arrival of Stottand Shirley. They were to be expected any moment now. Thepassengers had probably got off the steamer by eleven o'clock. Itwould take at least two hours to get through the Customs and outto Massapequa. The judge and his wife sat on the porch countingthe minutes and straining their ears to catch the first sound ofthe train from New York. 

"I hope Stott broke the news to her gently, " said the judge. 

"I wish we had gone to meet her ourselves, " sighed his wife. 

The judge was silent and for a moment or two he puffed vigorouslyat his pipe, as was his habit when disturbed mentally. Then hesaid:

"I ought to have gone, Martha, but I was afraid. I'm afraid tolook my own daughter in the face and tell her that I am adisgraced man, that I am to be tried by the Senate for corruption, perhaps impeached and turned off the bench as if I were acriminal. Shirley won't believe it, sometimes I can't believe itmyself. I often wake up in the night and think of it as part of adream, but when the morning comes it's still true--it's stilltrue!"

He smoked on in silence. Then happening to look up he noticed thathis wife was weeping. He laid his hand gently on hers. 

"Don't cry, dear, don't make it harder for me to bear. Shirleymust see no trace of tears. "

"I was thinking of the injustice of it all, " replied Mrs. Rossmore, wiping her eyes. 

"Fancy Shirley in this place, living from hand to mouth, " went onthe judge. 

"That's the least, " answered his wife. "She's a fine, handsomegirl, well educated and all the rest of it. She ought to make agood marriage. " No matter what state of mind Mrs. Rossmore mightbe in, she never lost sight of the practical side of things. 

"Hardly with her father's disgrace hanging over her head, " repliedthe judge wearily. "Who, " he added, "would have the courage tomarry a girl whose father was publicly disgraced?"

Both relapsed into another long silence, each mentally reviewingthe past and speculating on the future. Suddenly Mrs. Rossmorestarted. Surely she could not be mistaken! No, the clanging of alocomotive bell was plainly audible. The train was in. From thedirection of the station came people with parcels and hand bagsand presently there was heard the welcome sound of carriage wheelscrunching over the stones. A moment later they saw coming roundthe bend in the road a cab piled up with small baggage. 

"Here they are! Here they are!" cried Mrs. Rossmore. "Come, Eudoxia!" she called to the servant, while she herself hurrieddown to the gate. The judge, fully as agitated as herself, onlyshowing his emotion in a different way, remained on the porch paleand anxious. 

The cab stopped at the curb and Stott alighted, first helping outMrs. Blake. Mrs. Rossmore's astonishment on seeing her sister wasalmost comical. 

"Milly!" she exclaimed. 

They embraced first and explained afterwards. Then Shirley got outand was in her mother's arms. 

"Where's father?" was Shirley's first question. 

"There--he's coming!"

The judge, unable to restrain his impatience longer, ran down fromthe porch towards the gate. Shirley, with a cry of mingled griefand joy, precipitated herself on his breast. 

"Father! Father!" she cried between her sobs. "What have they doneto you?"

"There--there, my child. Everything will be well--everything willbe well. "

Her head lay on his shoulder and he stroked her hair with hishand, unable to speak from pent up emotion. 

Mrs. Rossmore could not recover from her stupefaction on seeingher sister. Mrs. Blake explained that she had come chiefly for thebenefit of the voyage and announced her intention of returning onthe same steamer. 

"So you see I shall bother you only a few days, " she said. 

"You'll stay just as long as you wish, " rejoined Mrs. Rossmore. "Happily we have just one bedroom left. " Then turning to Eudoxia, who was wrestling with the baggage, which formed a miniatureMatterhorn on the sidewalk, she gave instructions:

"Eudoxia, you'll take this lady's baggage to the small bedroomadjoining Miss Shirley's. She is going to stop with us for a fewdays. "

Taken completely aback at the news of this new addition, Eudoxialooked at first defiance. She seemed on the point of handing inher resignation there and then. But evidently she thought betterof it, for, taking a cue from Mrs. Rossmore, she asked in thesarcastic manner of her mistress:

"Four is it now, M'm? I suppose the Constitootion of the UnitedStates allows a family to be as big as one likes to make it. It'shard on us girls, but if it's the law, it's all right, M'm. Themore the merrier!" With which broadside, she hung the bags allover herself and staggered off to the house. 

Stott explained that the larger pieces and the trunks would comelater by express. Mrs. Rossmore took him aside while Mrs. Blakejoined Shirley and the judge. 

"Did you tell Shirley?" asked Mrs. Rossmore. "How did she takeit?"

"She knows everything, " answered Stott, "and takes it verysensibly. We shall find her of great moral assistance in ourcoming fight in the Senate, " he added confidently. 

 [Pencil illustration of Shirley embracing her father at the gate of the cottage at Massapequa. ]

 "Father! Father! What have they done to you?"--_Page 161_. 

Realizing that the judge would like to be left alone with Shirley, Mrs. Rossmore invited Mrs. Blake to go upstairs and see the roomshe would have, while Stott said he would be glad of a washup. When they had gone Shirley sidled up to her father in her oldfamiliar way. 

"I've just been longing to see you, father, " she said. She turnedto get a good look at him and noticing the lines of care which haddeepened during her absence she cried: "Why, how you've changed! Ican scarcely believe it's you. Say something. Let me hear thesound of your voice, father. "

The judge tried to smile. 

"Why, my dear girl, I--"

Shirley threw her arms round his neck. 

"Ah, yes, now I know it's you, " she cried. 

"Of course it is, Shirley, my dear girl. Of course it is. Who elseshould it be?"

"Yes, but it isn't the same, " insisted Shirley. "There is no ringto your voice. It sounds hollow and empty, like an echo. And thisplace, " she added dolefully, "this awful place--"

She glanced around at the cracked ceilings, the cheaply paperedwalls, the shabby furniture, and her heart sank as she realizedthe extent of their misfortune. She had come back prepared for theworst, to help win the fight for her father's honour, but to haveto struggle against sordid poverty as well, to endure thathumiliation in addition to disgrace--ah, that was something shehad not anticipated! She changed colour and her voice faltered. Her father had been closely watching for just such signs and heread her thoughts. 

"It's the best we can afford, Shirley, " he said quietly. "The blowhas been complete. I will tell you everything. You shall judge foryourself. My enemies have done for me at last. "

"Your enemies?" cried Shirley eagerly. "Tell me who they are so Imay go to them. "

"Yes, dear, you shall know everything. But not now. You are tiredafter your journey. To-morrow sometime Stott and I will explaineverything. "

"Very well, father, as you wish, " said Shirley gently. "Afterall, " she added in an effort to appear cheerful, "what matterwhere we live so long as we have each other?"

She drew away to hide her tears and left the room on pretence ofinspecting the house. She looked into the dining-room and kitchenand opened the cupboards, and when she returned there were novisible signs of trouble in her face. 

"It's a cute little house, isn't it?" she said. "I've alwayswanted a little place like this--all to ourselves. Oh, if you onlyknew how tired I am of New York and its great ugly houses, itsretinue of servants and its domestic and social responsibilities!We shall be able to live for ourselves now, eh, father?"

She spoke with a forced gaiety that might have deceived anyone butthe judge. He understood the motive of her sudden change in mannerand silently he blessed her for making his burden lighter. 

"Yes, dear, it's not bad, " he said. "There's not much room, though. "

"There's quite enough, " she insisted. "Let me see. " She began tocount on her fingers. "Upstairs--three rooms, eh? and above thatthree more--"

"No, " smiled the judge, "then comes the roof?"

"Of course, " she laughed, "how stupid of me--a nice gable roof, asloping roof that the rain runs off beautifully. Oh, I can seethat this is going to be awfully jolly--just like camping out. Youknow how I love camping out. And you have a piano, too. "

She went over to the corner where stood one of those homelyinstruments which hardly deserve to be dignified by the namepiano, with a cheap, gaudily painted case outside and a tin paneffect inside, and which are usually to be found in the poorerclass of country boarding houses. Shirley sat down and ran herfingers over the keys, determined to like everything. 

"It's a little old, " was her comment, "but I like these zithereffects. It's just like the sixteenth century spinet. I can seeyou and mother dancing a stately minuet, " she smiled. 

"What's that about mother dancing?" demanded Mrs. Rossmore, who atthat instant entered the room. Shirley arose and appealed to her:

"Isn't it absurd, mother, when you come to think of it, thatanybody should accuse father of being corrupt and of havingforfeited the right to be judge? Isn't it still more absurd thatwe should be helpless and dejected and unhappy because we are onLong Island instead of Madison Avenue? Why should Manhattan Islandbe a happier spot than Long Island? Why shouldn't we be happyanywhere; we have each other. And we do need each other. We neverknew how much till to-day, did we? We must stand by each othernow. Father is going to clear his name of this preposterous chargeand we're going to help him, aren't we, mother? We're not helplessjust because we are women. We're going to work, mother and I. "

"Work?" echoed Mrs. Rossmore, somewhat scandalized. 

"Work, " repeated Shirley very decisively. 

The judge interfered. He would not hear of it. 

"You work, Shirley? Impossible!"

"Why not? My book has been selling well while I was abroad. Ishall probably write others. Then I shall write, too, for thenewspapers and magazines. It will add to our income. "

"Your book--'The American Octopus, ' is selling well?" inquired thejudge, interested. 

"So well, " replied Shirley, "that the publishers wrote me in Paristhat the fourth edition was now on the press. That means goodroyalties. I shall soon be a fashionable author. The publisherswill be after me for more books and we'll have all the money wewant. Oh, it is so delightful, this novel sensation of a literarysuccess!" she exclaimed with glee. "Aren't you proud of me, dad?"

The judge smiled indulgently. Of course he was glad and proud. Healways knew his Shirley was a clever girl. But by what strangefatality, he thought to himself, had his daughter in this book ofhers assailed the very man who had encompassed his own ruin? Itseemed like the retribution of heaven. Neither his daughter northe financier was conscious of the fact that each was indirectlyconnected with the impeachment proceedings. Ryder could not dreamthat "Shirley Green, " the author of the book which flayed him somercilessly, was the daughter of the man he was trying to crush. Shirley, on the other hand, was still unaware of the fact that itwas Ryder who had lured her father to his ruin. 

Mrs. Rossmore now insisted on Shirley going to her room to rest. She must be tired and dusty. After changing her travelling dressshe would feel refreshed and more comfortable. When she was readyto come down again luncheon would be served. So leaving the judgeto his papers, mother and daughter went upstairs together, andwith due maternal pride Mrs. Rossmore pointed out to Shirley allthe little arrangements she had made for her comfort. Then sheleft her daughter to herself while she hurried downstairs to lookafter Eudoxia and luncheon. 

When, at last, she could lock herself in her room where no eyecould see her, Shirley threw herself down on the bed and burstinto a torrent of tears. She had kept up appearances as long as itwas possible, but now the reaction had set in. She gave way freelyto her pent up feelings, she felt that unless she could relieveherself in this way her heart would break. She had been braveuntil now, she had been strong to hear everything and seeeverything, but she could not keep it up forever. Stott's words toher on the dock had in part prepared her for the worst, he hadtold her what to expect at home, but the realization was so muchmore vivid. While hundreds of miles of ocean still lay between, ithad all seemed less real, almost attractive as a romance in modernlife, but now she was face to face with the grim reality--thisshabby cottage, cheap neighbourhood and commonplace surroundings, her mother's air of resignation to the inevitable, her father'spale, drawn face telling so eloquently of the keen mental anguishthrough which he had passed. She compared this pitiful spectaclewith what they had been when she left for Europe, the fine mansionon Madison Avenue with its rich furnishings and well-trainedservants, and her father's proud aristocratic face illumined withthe consciousness of his high rank in the community, and theattention he attracted every time he appeared on the street or inpublic places as one of the most brilliant and most respectedjudges on the bench. Then to have come to this all in the briefspace of a few months! It was incredible, terrible, heart rending!And what of the future? What was to be done to save her fatherfrom this impeachment which she knew well would hurry him to hisgrave? He could not survive that humiliation, that degradation. Hemust be saved in the Senate, but how--how?

She dried her eyes and began to think. Surely her woman's witwould find some way. She thought of Jefferson. Would he come toMassapequa? It was hardly probable. He would certainly learn ofthe change in their circumstances and his sense of delicacy wouldnaturally keep him away for some time even if other considerations, less unselfish, did not. Perhaps he would be attracted to someother girl he would like as well and who was not burdened with atragedy in her family. Her tears began to flow afresh until shehated herself for being so weak while there was work to be done tosave her father. She loved Jefferson. Yes, she had never felt sosure of it as now. She felt that if she had him there at thatmoment she would throw herself in his arms crying: "Take me, Jefferson, take me away, where you will, for I love you! I loveyou!" But Jefferson was not there and the rickety chairs in thetiny bedroom and the cheap prints on the walls seemed to jibe ather in her misery. If he were there, she thought as she lookedinto a cracked mirror, he would think her very ugly with her eyesall red from crying. He would not marry her now in any case. Noself-respecting man would. She was glad that she had spoken to himas she had in regard to marriage, for while a stain remained uponher father's name marriage was out of the question. She might haveyielded on the question of the literary career, but she wouldnever allow a man to taunt her afterwards with the disgrace of herown flesh and blood. No, henceforth her place was at her father'sside until his character was cleared. If the trial in the Senatewere to go against him, then she could never see Jefferson again. She would give up all idea of him and everything else. Herliterary career would be ended, her life would be a blank. Theywould have to go abroad, where they were not known, and try andlive down their shame, for no matter how innocent her father mightbe the world would believe him guilty. Once condemned by theSenate, nothing could remove the stigma. She would have to teachin order to contribute towards the support, they would managesomehow. But what a future, how unnecessary, how unjust!

Suddenly she thought of Jefferson's promise to interest his fatherin their case and she clutched at the hope this promise held outas a drowning man clutches at a drifting straw. Jefferson wouldnot forget his promise and he would come to Massapequa to tell herof what he had done. She was sure of that. Perhaps, after all, there was where their hope lay. Why had she not told her father atonce? It might have relieved his mind. John Burkett Ryder, theColossus, the man of unlimited power! He could save her father andhe would. And the more she thought about it, the more cheerful andmore hopeful she became, and she started to dress quickly so thatshe might hurry down to tell her father the good news. She wasactually sorry now that she had said so many hard things of Mr. Ryder in her book and she was worrying over the thought that herfather's case might be seriously prejudiced if the identity of theauthor were ever revealed, when there came a knock at her door. Itwas Eudoxia. 

"Please, miss, will you come down to lunch?"

CHAPTER VIII

A whirling maelstrom of human activity and dynamic energy--thecity which above all others is characteristic of the genius andvirility of the American people--New York, with its congestedpolyglot population and teeming millions, is assuredly one of thebusiest, as it is one of the most strenuous and most noisy placeson earth. Yet, despite its swarming streets and crowded shops, ceaselessly thronged with men and women eagerly hurrying here andthere in the pursuit of business or elusive pleasure, allchattering, laughing, shouting amid the deafening, multisonousroar of traffic incidental to Gotham's daily life, there is onepart of the great metropolis where there is no bustle, no noise, no crowd, where the streets are empty even in daytime, where apasser-by is a curiosity and a child a phenomenon. This desertedvillage in the very heart of the big town is the millionaires'district, the boundaries of which are marked by Carnegie hill onthe north, Fiftieth Street on the south, and by Fifth and MadisonAvenues respectively on the west and east. There is nothing moremournful than the outward aspect of these princely residenceswhich, abandoned and empty for three-quarters of the year, standin stately loneliness, as if ashamed of their isolation and utteruselessness. Their blinds drawn, affording no hint of life within, enveloped the greater part of the time in the stillness andsilence of the tomb, they appear to be under the spell of somebaneful curse. No merry-voiced children romp in their carefullyrailed off gardens, no sounds of conversation or laughter comefrom their hermetically closed windows, not a soul goes in or out, at most, at rare intervals, does one catch a glimpse of agorgeously arrayed servant gliding about in ghostly fashion, supercilious and suspicious, and addressing the chance visitor inawed whispers as though he were the guardian of a house ofaffliction. It is, indeed, like a city of the dead. 

So it appeared to Jefferson as he walked up Fifth Avenue, boundfor the Ryder residence, the day following his arrival fromEurope. Although he still lived at his father's house, for at notime had there been an open rupture, he often slept in his studio, finding it more convenient for his work, and there he had gonestraight from the ship. He felt, however, that it was his duty tosee his mother as soon as possible; besides he was anxious tofulfil his promise to Shirley and find what his father could do tohelp Judge Rossmore. He had talked about the case with several menthe previous evening at the club and the general impression seemedto be that, guilty or innocent, the judge would be driven off thebench. The "interests" had forced the matter as a party issue, andthe Republicans being in control in the Senate the outcome couldhardly be in doubt. He had learned also of the other misfortuneswhich had befallen Judge Rossmore and he understood now the reasonfor Shirley's grave face on the dock and her little fib aboutsummering on Long Island. The news had been a shock to him, for, apart from the fact that the judge was Shirley's father, headmired him immensely as a man. Of his perfect innocence therecould, of course, be no question: these charges of bribery hadsimply been trumped up by his enemies to get him off the bench. That was very evident. The "interests" feared him and so hadsacrificed him without pity, and as Jefferson walked along CentralPark, past the rows of superb palaces which face its eastern wall, he wondered in which particular mansion had been hatched thiswicked, iniquitous plot against a wholly blameless Americancitizen. Here, he thought, were the citadels of the plutocrats, America's aristocracy of money, the strongholds of her Coal, Railroad, Oil, Gas and Ice barons, the castles of her monarchs ofSteel, Copper, and Finance. Each of these million-dollarresidences, he pondered, was filled from cellar to roof withcostly furnishings, masterpieces of painting and sculpture, priceless art treasures of all kinds purchased in every corner ofthe globe with the gold filched from a Trust-ridden people. Forevery stone in those marble halls a human being, other than theowner, had been sold into bondage, for each of these magnificentedifices, which the plutocrat put up in his pride only to occupyit two months in the year, ten thousand American men, women andchildren had starved and sorrowed. 

Europe, thought Jefferson as he strode quickly along, pointed withenvy to America's unparalleled prosperity, spoke with bated breathof her great fortunes. Rather should they say her giganticrobberies, her colossal frauds! As a nation we were not proud ofour multi-millionaires. How many of them would bear the searchlightof investigation? Would his own father? How many millions couldone man make by honest methods? America was enjoying unprecedentedprosperity, not because of her millionaires, but in spite of them. The United States owed its high rank in the family of nations tothe country's vast natural resources, its inexhaustible vitality, its great wheat fields, the industrial and mechanical genius ofits people. It was the plain American citizen who had made thegreatness of America, not the millionaires who, forming a class bythemselves of unscrupulous capitalists, had created an arrogantoligarchy which sought to rule the country by corrupting thelegislature and the judiciary. The plutocrats--these were theleeches, the sores in the body politic. An organized band ofrobbers, they had succeeded in dominating legislation and insecuring control of every branch of the nation's industry, crushing mercilessly and illegally all competition. They were theMoney Power, and such a menace were they to the welfare of thepeople that, it had been estimated, twenty men in America had itin their power, by reason of the vast wealth which they controlled, to come together, and within twenty-four hours arrive at anunderstanding by which every wheel of trade and commerce would bestopped from revolving, every avenue of trade blocked and everyelectric key struck dumb. Those twenty men could paralyze thewhole country, for they controlled the circulation of the currencyand could create a panic whenever they might choose. It was therapaciousness and insatiable greed of these plutocrats that hadforced the toilers to combine for self-protection, resulting inthe organization of the Labor Unions which, in time, became almostas tyrannical and unreasonable as the bosses. And the breachbetween capital on the one hand and labour on the other waswidening daily, masters and servants snarling over wages andhours, the quarrel ever increasing in bitterness and acrimonyuntil one day the extreme limit of patience would be reached andindustrial strikes would give place to bloody violence. 

Meantime the plutocrats, wholly careless of the significant signsof the times and the growing irritation and resentment of thepeople, continued their illegal practices, scoffing at publicopinion, snapping their fingers at the law, even going so far intheir insolence as to mock and jibe at the President of the UnitedStates. Feeling secure in long immunity and actually protected intheir wrong doing by the courts--the legal machinery by its veryelaborateness defeating the ends of justice--the Trust kingsimpudently defied the country and tried to impose their own willupon the people. History had thus repeated itself. The armedfeudalism of the middle ages had been succeeded in twentiethcentury America by the tyranny of capital. 

Yet, ruminated the young artist as he neared the Ryder residence, the American people had but themselves to blame for their presentthralldom. Forty years before Abraham Lincoln had warned thecountry when at the close of the war he saw that the race forwealth was already making men and women money-mad. In 1864 hewrote these words:

"Yes, we may congratulate ourselves that this cruel war is nearingits close. It has cost a vast amount of treasure and blood. Thebest blood of the flower of American youth has been freely offeredupon our country's altar that the nation might live. It has beenindeed a trying hour for the Republic, but I see in the nearfuture a crisis approaching that unnerves me and causes me totremble for the safety of my country. As a result of the war, corporations have been enthroned and an era of corruption in highplaces will follow and the money power of the country willendeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices ofthe people until all the wealth is aggregated in a few hands andthe Republic is destroyed. "

Truly prophetic these solemn words were to-day. Forgetting theaustere simplicity of their forebears, a love of show andostentation had become the ruling passion of the American people. Money, MONEY, MONEY! was to-day the only standard, the only god!The whole nation, frenzied with a wild lust for wealth no matterhow acquired, had tacitly acquiesced in all sorts of turpitude, every description of moral depravity, and so had fallen an easyvictim to the band of capitalistic adventurers who now virtuallyruled the land. With the thieves in power, the courts werepowerless, the demoralization was general and the world wasafforded the edifying spectacle of an entire country given up toan orgy of graft--treason in the Senate--corruption in theLegislature, fraudulent elections, leaks in government reports, trickery in Wall Street, illegal corners in coal, meat, ice andother prime necessaries of life, the deadly horrors of the Beefand Drug Trusts, railroad conspiracies, insurance scandals, thewrecking of savings banks, police dividing spoils with pickpocketsand sharing the wages of prostitutes, magistrates charged withblackmailing--a foul stench of social rottenness and decay! What, thought Jefferson, would be the outcome--Socialism or Anarchy?

Still, he mused, one ray of hope pierced the general gloom--thecommon sense, the vigour and the intelligence of the true Americanman and woman, the love for a "square deal" which was characteristicof the plain people, the resistless force of enlightened publicopinion. The country was merely passing through a dark phase inits history, it was the era of the grafters. There would come areaction, the rascals would be exposed and driven off, and thenation would go on upward toward its high destiny. The countrywas fortunate, too, in having a strong president, a man of highprinciples and undaunted courage who had already shown hiscapacity to deal with the critical situation. America was luckywith her presidents. Picked out by the great political parties asmere figureheads, sometimes they deceived their sponsors, andshowed themselves men and patriots. Such a president was TheodoreRoosevelt. After beginning vigorous warfare on the Trusts, attacking fearlessly the most rascally of the band, the chief ofthe nation had sounded the slogan of alarm in regard to themulti-millionaires. The amassing of colossal fortunes, he haddeclared, must be stopped--a man might accumulate more thansufficient for his own needs and for the needs of his children, but the evil practice of perpetuating great and ever-increasingfortunes for generations yet unborn was recognized as a peril tothe State. To have had the courage to propose such a sweeping andradical restrictive measure as this should alone, thoughtJefferson, ensure for Theodore Roosevelt a place among America'sgreatest and wisest statesmen. He and Americans of his calibrewould eventually perform the titanic task of cleansing theseAugean stables, the muck and accumulated filth of which wassapping the health and vitality of the nation. 

Jefferson turned abruptly and went up the wide steps of animposing white marble edifice, which took up the space of half acity block. A fine example of French Renaissance architecture, with spire roofs, round turrets and mullioned windows dominatingthe neighbouring houses, this magnificent home of the plutocrat, with its furnishings and art treasures, had cost John BurkettRyder nearly ten millions of dollars. It was one of the showplaces of the town, and when the "rubber neck" wagons approachedthe Ryder mansion and the guides, through their megaphones, expatiated in awe-stricken tones on its external and hiddenbeauties, there was a general craning of vertebrae among the"seeing New York"-ers to catch a glimpse of the abode of therichest man in the world. 

Only a few privileged ones were ever permitted to penetrate to theinterior of this ten-million-dollar home. Ryder was not fond ofcompany, he avoided strangers and lived in continual apprehensionof the subpoena server. Not that he feared the law, only heusually found it inconvenient to answer questions in court underoath. The explicit instructions to the servants, therefore, wereto admit no one under any pretext whatever unless the visitor hadbeen approved by the Hon. Fitzroy Bagley, Mr. Ryder's aristocraticprivate secretary, and to facilitate this preliminary inspectionthere had been installed between the library upstairs and thefront door one of those ingenious electric writing devices, suchas are used in banks, on which a name is hastily scribbled, instantly transmitted elsewhere, immediately answered and thevisitor promptly admitted or as quickly shown the door. 

Indeed the house, from the street, presented many of thecharacteristics of a prison. It had massive doors behind a row ofhighly polished steel gates, which would prove as useful in caseof attempted invasion as they were now ornamental, and heavilybarred windows, while on either side of the portico were greatmarble columns hung with chains and surmounted with bronze lionsrampant. It was unusual to keep the town house open so late in thesummer, but Mr. Ryder was obliged for business reasons to be inNew York at this time, and Mrs. Ryder, who was one of the fewAmerican wives who do not always get their own way, hadgood-naturedly acquiesced in the wishes of her lord. 

Jefferson did not have to ring at the paternal portal. Thesentinel within was at his post; no one could approach that doorwithout being seen and his arrival and appearance signalledupstairs. But the great man's son headed the list of theprivileged ones, so without ado the smartly dressed flunkey openedwide the doors and Jefferson was under his father's roof. 

"Is my father in?" he demanded of the man. 

"No, sir, " was the respectful answer. "Mr. Ryder has gone outdriving, but Mr. Bagley is upstairs. " Then after a brief pause headded: "Mrs. Ryder is in, too. "

In this household where the personality of the mistress was socompletely overshadowed by the stronger personality of the masterthe latter's secretary was a more important personage to theservants than the unobtrusive wife. 

Jefferson went up the grand staircase hung on either side withfine old portraits and rare tapestries, his feet sinking deep inthe rich velvet carpet. On the first landing was a piece ofsculptured marble of inestimable worth, seen in the soft warmlight that sifted through a great pictorial stained-glass windowoverhead, the subject representing Ajax and Ulysses contending forthe armour of Achilles. To the left of this, at the top of anotherflight leading to the library, was hung a fine full-lengthportrait of John Burkett Ryder. The ceilings here as in the lowerhall were richly gilt and adorned with paintings by famous modernartists. When he reached this floor Jefferson was about to turn tothe right and proceed direct to his mother's suite when he heard avoice near the library door. It was Mr. Bagley giving instructionsto the butler. 

The Honourable Fitzroy Bagley, a younger son of a British peer, had left his country for his country's good, and in order to turnan honest penny, which he had never succeeded in doing at home, hehad entered the service of America's foremost financier, hoping togather a few of the crumbs that fell from the rich man's table anddisguising the menial nature of his position under the high-soundingtitle of private secretary. His job called for a spy and a toady andhe filled these requirements admirably. Excepting with his employer, of whom he stood in craven fear, his manner was condescendinglypatronizing to all with whom he came in contact, as if he wereanxious to impress on these American plebeians the signal honourwhich a Fitzroy, son of a British peer, did them in deigning toremain in their "blarsted" country. In Mr. Ryder's absence, therefore, he ran the house to suit himself, bullying the servantsand not infrequently issuing orders that were contradictory tothose already given by Mrs. Ryder. The latter offered no resistance, she knew he was useful to her husband and, what to her mind was astill better reason for letting him have his own way, she hadalways had the greatest reverence for the British aristocracy. Itwould have seemed to her little short of vulgarity to question theactions of anyone who spoke with such a delightful English accent. Moreover, he dressed with irreproachable taste, was an acknowledgedauthority on dinner menus and social functions and knew his Burkebackwards--altogether an accomplished and invaluable person. 

Jefferson could not bear the sight of him; in fact, it was thisman's continual presence in the house that had driven him to seekrefuge elsewhere. He believed him to be a scoundrel as hecertainly was a cad. Nor was his estimate of the English secretaryfar wrong. The man, like his master, was a grafter, and theparticular graft he was after now was either to make a marriagewith a rich American girl or to so compromise her that the sameend would be attained. He was shrewd enough to realize that he hadlittle chance to get what he wanted in the open matrimonialmarket, so he determined to attempt a raid and carry off anheiress under her father's nose, and the particular proboscis hehad selected was that of his employer's friend, Senator Roberts. The senator and Miss Roberts were frequently at the Ryder Houseand in course of time the aristocratic secretary and the daughterhad become quite intimate. A flighty girl, with no other purposein life beyond dress and amusement and having what she termed "agood time, " Kate thought it excellent pastime to flirt with Mr. Bagley, and when she discovered that he was serious in hisattentions she felt flattered rather than indignant. After all, she argued, he was of noble birth. If his two brothers died hewould be peer of England, and she had enough money for both. Hemight not make a bad husband. But she was careful to keep her owncounsel and not let her father have any suspicion of what wasgoing on. She knew that his heart was set on her marryingJefferson Ryder and she knew better than anyone how impossiblethat dream was. She herself liked Jefferson quite enough to marryhim, but if his eyes were turned in another direction--and sheknew all about his attentions to Miss Rossmore--she was not goingto break her heart about it. So she continued to flirt secretlywith the Honourable Fitzroy while she still led the Ryders and herown father to think that she was interested in Jefferson. 

"Jorkins, " Mr. Bagley was saying to the butler, "Mr. Ryder willoccupy the library on his return. See that he is not disturbed. "

"Yes, sir, " replied the butler respectfully. The man turned to gowhen the secretary called him back. 

"And, Jorkins, you will station another man at the front entrance. Yesterday it was left unguarded, and a man had the audacity toaddress Mr. Ryder as he was getting out of his carriage. Last weeka reporter tried to snapshot him. Mr. Ryder was furious. Thesethings must not happen again, Jorkins. I shall hold youresponsible. "

"Very good, sir. " The butler bowed and went downstairs. Thesecretary looked up and saw Jefferson. His face reddened and hismanner grew nervous. 

"Hello! Back from Europe, Jefferson? How jolly! Your mother willbe delighted. She's in her room upstairs. "

Declining to take the hint, and gathering from Bagley'sembarrassed manner that he wanted to get rid of him, Jeffersonlingered purposely. When the butler had disappeared, he said:

"This house is getting more and more like a barracks every day. You've got men all over the place. One can't move a step withoutfalling over one. "

Mr. Bagley drew himself up stiffly, as he always did when assumingan air of authority. 

"Your father's personality demands the utmost precaution, " hereplied. "We cannot leave the life of the richest and mostpowerful financier in the world at the mercy of the rabble. "

"What rabble?" inquired Jefferson, amused. 

"The common rabble--the lower class--the riff-raff, " explained Mr. Bagley. 

"Pshaw!" laughed Jefferson. "If our financiers were only half asrespectable as the common rabble, as you call them, they wouldneed no bars to their houses. "

Mr. Bagley sneered and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Your father has warned me against your socialistic views. " Then, with a lofty air, he added: "For four years I was third groom ofthe bedchamber to the second son of England's queen. I know myresponsibilities. "

"But you are not groom of the bedchamber here, " retortedJefferson. 

"Whatever I am, " said Mr. Bagley haughtily, "I am answerable toyour father alone. "

"By the way, Bagley, " asked Jefferson, "when do you expect fatherto return? I want to see him. "

"I'm afraid it's quite impossible, " answered the secretary withstudied insolence. "He has three important people to see beforedinner. There's the National Republican Committee and SergeantEllison of the Secret Service from Washington--all here byappointment. It's quite impossible. "

"I didn't ask you if it were possible. I said I wanted to see himand I will see him, " answered Jefferson quietly but firmly, and ina tone and manner which did not admit of further opposition. "I'llgo and leave word for him on his desk, " he added. 

He started to enter the library when the secretary, who wasvisibly perturbed, attempted to bar his way. 

"There's some one in there, " he said in an undertone. "Someonewaiting for your father. "

"Is there?" replied Jefferson coolly. "I'll see who it is, " withwhich he brushed past Mr. Bagley and entered the library. 

He had guessed aright. A woman was there. It was Kate Roberts. 

"Hello, Kate! how are you?" They called each other by their firstnames, having been acquainted for years, and while theirs was anindifferent kind of friendship they had always been on good terms. At one time Jefferson had even begun to think he might do what hisfather wished and marry the girl, but it was only after he had metand known Shirley Rossmore that he realized how different onewoman can be from another. Yet Kate had her good qualities. Shewas frivolous and silly as are most girls with no brains andnothing else to do in life but dress and spend money, but shemight yet be happy with some other fellow, and that was why itmade him angry to see this girl with $100, 000 in her own rightplaying into the hands of an unscrupulous adventurer. He hadevidently disturbed an interesting _tête-à-tête_. He decided tosay nothing, but mentally he resolved to spoil Mr. Bagley's gameand save Kate from her own folly. On hearing his voice Kate turnedand gave a little cry of genuine surprise. 

"Why, is it you, Jeff? I thought you were in Europe. "

"I returned yesterday, " he replied somewhat curtly. He crossedover to his father's desk where he sat down to scribble a fewwords, while Mr. Bagley, who had followed him in scowling, wasmaking frantic dumb signs to Kate. 

"I fear I intrude here, " said Jefferson pointedly. 

"Oh, dear no, not at all, " replied Kate in some confusion. "I waswaiting for my father. How is Paris?" she asked. 

"Lovely as ever, " he answered. 

"Did you have a good time?" she inquired. 

"I enjoyed it immensely. I never had a better one. "

"You probably were in good company, " she said significantly. Thenshe added: "I believe Miss Rossmore was in Paris. "

"Yes, I think she was there, " was his non-committal answer. 

To change the conversation, which was becoming decidedly personal, he picked up a book that was lying on his father's desk andglanced at the title. It was "The American Octopus. "

"Is father still reading this?" he asked. "He was at it when Ileft. "

"Everybody is reading it, " said Kate. "The book has made a bigsensation. Do you know who the hero is?"

"Who?" he asked with an air of the greatest innocence. 

"Why, no less a personage than your father--John Burkett Ryderhimself! Everybody says it's he--the press and everybody that'sread it. He says so himself. "

"Really?" he exclaimed with well-simulated surprise. "I must readit. "

"It has made a strong impression on Mr. Ryder, " chimed in Mr. Bagley. "I never knew him to be so interested in a book before. He's trying his best to find out who the author is. It's a jollywell written book and raps you American millionaires jollywell--what?"

"Whoever wrote the book, " interrupted Kate, "is somebody who knowsMr. Ryder exceedingly well. There are things in it that anoutsider could not possibly know. "

"Phew!" Jefferson whistled softly to himself. He was treadingdangerous ground. To conceal his embarrassment, he rose. 

"If you'll excuse me, I'll go and pay my filial respects upstairs. I'll see you again, " He gave Kate a friendly nod, and without evenglancing at Mr. Bagley left the room. 

The couple stood in silence for a few moments after hedisappeared. Then Kate went to the door and listened to hisretreating footsteps. When she was sure that he was out of earshotshe turned on Mr. Bagley indignantly. 

"You see what you expose me to. Jefferson thinks this was arendezvous. "

"Well, it was to a certain extent, " replied the secretaryunabashed. "Didn't you ask me to see you here?"

"Yes, " said Kate, taking a letter from her bosom, "I wanted to askyou what this means?"

"My dear Miss Roberts--Kate--I"--stammered the secretary. 

"How dare you address me in this manner when you know I and Mr. Ryder are engaged?"

No one knew better than Kate that this was not true, but she saidit partly out of vanity, partly out of a desire to draw out thisEnglishman who made such bold love to her. 

"Miss Roberts, " replied Mr. Bagley loftily, "in that note Iexpressed my admiration--my love for you. Your engagement to Mr. Jefferson Ryder is, to say the least, a most uncertain fact. "There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice that did not escapeKate. 

"You must not judge from appearances, " she answered, trying tokeep up the outward show of indignation which inwardly she did notfeel. "Jeff and I may hide a passion that burns like a volcano. All lovers are not demonstrative, you know. "

The absurdity of this description as applied to her relations withJefferson appealed to her as so comical that she burst intolaughter in which the secretary joined. 

"Then why did you remain here with me when the Senator went outwith Mr. Ryder, senior?" he demanded. 

"To tell you that I cannot listen to your nonsense any longer, "retorted the girl. 

"What?" he cried, incredulously. "You remain here to tell me thatyou cannot listen to me when you could easily have avoidedlistening to me without telling me so. Kate, your coldness is notconvincing. "

"You mean you think I want to listen to you?" she demanded. 

"I do, " he answered, stepping forward as if to take her in hisarms. 

"Mr. Bagley!" she exclaimed, recoiling. 

"A week ago, " he persisted, "you called me Fitzroy. Once, in anoutburst of confidence, you called me Fitz. "

"You hadn't asked me to marry you then, " she laughed mockingly. Then edging away towards the door she waved her hand at himplayfully and said teasingly: "Good-bye, Mr. Bagley, I am goingupstairs to Mrs. Ryder. I will await my father's return in herroom. I think I shall be safer. "

He ran forward to intercept her, but she was too quick for him. The door slammed in his face and she was gone. 

Meantime Jefferson had proceeded upstairs, passing through longand luxuriously carpeted corridors with panelled frescoed walls, and hung with grand old tapestries and splendid paintings, untilhe came to his mother's room. He knocked. 

"Come in!" called out the familiar voice. 

He entered. Mrs. Ryder was busy at her escritoire looking over amass of household accounts. 

"Hello, mother!" he cried, running up and hugging her in hisboyish, impulsive way. Jefferson had always been devoted to hismother, and while he deplored her weakness in permitting herselfto be so completely under the domination of his father, she hadalways found him an affectionate and loving son. 

"Jefferson!" she exclaimed when he released her. "My dear boy, when did you arrive?"

"Only yesterday. I slept at the studio last night. You're lookingbully, mother. How's father?"

Mrs. Ryder sighed while she looked her son over proudly. In herheart she was glad Jefferson had turned out as he had. Her boycertainly would never be a financier to be attacked in magazinesand books. Answering his question she said:

"Your father is as well as those busybodies in the newspapers willlet him be. He's considerably worried just now over that new book'The American Octopus. ' How dare they make him out such a monster?He's no worse than other successful business men. He's richer, that's all, and it makes them jealous. He's out driving now withSenator Roberts. Kate is somewhere in the house--in the library, Ithink. "

"Yes, I found her there, " replied Jefferson dryly. "She was withthat cad, Bagley. When is father going to find that fellow out?"

"Oh, Jefferson, " protested his mother, "how can you talk like thatof Mr. Bagley. He is such a perfect gentleman. His familyconnections alone should entitle him to respect. He is certainlythe best secretary your father ever had. I'm sure I don't knowwhat we should do without him. He knows everything that agentleman should. "

"And a good deal more, I wager, " growled Jefferson. "He wasn'tgroom of the backstairs to England's queen for nothing. " Thenchanging the topic, he said suddenly: "Talking about Kate, mother, we have got to reach some definite understanding. This talk aboutmy marrying her must stop. I intend to take the matter up withfather to-day. "

"Oh, of course, more trouble!" replied his mother in a resignedtone. She was so accustomed to having her wishes thwarted that shewas never surprised at anything. "We heard of your goings on inParis. That Miss Rossmore was there, was she not?"

"That has got nothing to do with it, " replied Jefferson warmly. Heresented Shirley's name being dragged into the discussion. Thenmore calmly he went on: "Now, mother, be reasonable, listen. Ipurpose to live my own life. I have already shown my father that Iwill not be dictated to, and that I can earn my own living. He hasno right to force this marriage on me. There has never been anymisunderstanding on Kate's part. She and I understand each otherthoroughly. "

"Well, Jefferson, you may be right from your point of view, "replied his mother weakly. She invariably ended by agreeing withthe last one who argued with her. "You are of age, of course. Yourparents have only a moral right over you. Only remember this: itwould be foolish of you to do anything now to anger your father. His interests are your interests. Don't do anything to jeopardizethem. Of course, you can't be forced to marry a girl you don'tcare for, but your father will be bitterly disappointed. He hadset his heart on this match. He knows all about your infatuationfor Miss Rossmore and it has made him furious. I suppose you'veheard about her father?"

"Yes, and it's a dastardly outrage, " blurted out Jefferson. "It'sa damnable conspiracy against one of the most honourable men thatever lived, and I mean to ferret out and expose the authors. Icame here to-day to ask father to help me. "

"You came to ask your father to help you?" echoed his motherincredulously. 

"Why not?" demanded Jefferson. "Is it true then that he isselfishness incarnate? Wouldn't he do that much to help a friend?"

"You've come to the wrong house, Jeff. You ought to know that. Your father is far from being Judge Rossmore's friend. Surely youhave sense enough to realize that there are two reasons why hewould not raise a finder to help him. One is that he has alwaysbeen his opponent in public life, the other is that you want tomarry his daughter. "

Jefferson sat as if struck dumb. He had not thought of that. Yes, it was true. His father and the father of the girl he loved weremortal enemies. How was help to be expected from the head of those"interests" which the judge had always attacked, and now he cameto think of it, perhaps his own father was really at the bottom ofthese abominable charges! He broke into a cold perspiration andhis voice was altered as he said:

"Yes, I see now, mother. You are right. " Then he added bitterly:"That has always been the trouble at home. No matter where I turn, I am up against a stone wall--the money interests. One never hearsa glimmer of fellow-feeling, never a word of human sympathy, onlycold calculation, heartless reasoning, money, money, money! Oh, Iam sick of it. I don't want any of it. I am going away where I'llhear no more of it. "

His mother laid her hand gently on his shoulder. 

"Don't talk that way, Jefferson. Your father is not a bad man atheart, you know that. His life has been devoted to money makingand he has made a greater fortune than any man living or dead. Heis only what his life has made him. He has a good heart. And heloves you--his only son. But his business enemies--ah! those henever forgives. "

Jefferson was about to reply when suddenly a dozen electric bellssounded all over the house. 

"What's that?" exclaimed Jefferson, alarmed, and starting towardsthe door. 

"Oh, that's nothing, " smiled his mother. "We have had that put insince you went away. Your father must have just come in. Thosebells announce the fact. It was done so that if there happened tobe any strangers in the house they could be kept out of the wayuntil he reached the library safely. "

"Oh, " laughed Jefferson, "he's afraid some one will kidnap him?Certainly he would be a rich prize. I wouldn't care for the jobmyself, though. They'd be catching a tartar. "

His speech was interrupted by a timid knock at the door. 

"May I come in to say good-bye?" asked a voice which theyrecognized as Kate's. She had successfully escaped from Mr. Bagley's importunities and was now going home with the Senator. She smiled amiably at Jefferson and they chatted pleasantly of histrip abroad. He was sincerely sorry for this girl whom they weretrying to foist on him. Not that he thought she really cared forhim, he was well aware that hers was a nature that made itimpossible to feel very deeply on any subject, but the idea ofthis ready-made marriage was so foreign, so revolting to theAmerican mind! He thought it would be a kindness to warn heragainst Bagley. 

"Don't be foolish, Kate, " he said. "I was not blind just now inthe library. That man is no good. "

As is usual when one's motives are suspected, the girl resentedhis interference. She knew he hated Mr. Bagley and she thought itmean of him to try and get even in this way. She stiffened up andreplied coldly:

"I think I am able to look after myself, Jefferson. Thanks, allthe same. "

He shrugged his shoulders and made no reply. She said good-bye toMrs. Ryder, who was again immersed in her tradespeople bills, andleft the room, escorted by Jefferson, who accompanied herdownstairs and on to the street where Senator Roberts was waitingfor her in the open victoria. The senator greeted with unusualcordiality the young man whom he still hoped to make hisson-in-law. 

"Come and see us, Jefferson, " he said. "Come to dinner anyevening. We are always alone and Kate and I will be glad to seeyou. "

"Jefferson has so little time now, father. His work and--hisfriends keep him pretty busy, "

Jefferson had noted both the pause and the sarcasm, but he saidnothing. He smiled and the senator raised his hat. As the carriagedrove off the young man noticed that Kate glanced at one of theupper windows where Mr. Bagley stood behind a curtain watching. Jefferson returned to the house. The psychological moment hadarrived. He must go now and confront his father in the library. 

CHAPTER IX

The library was the most important room in the Ryder mansion, forit was there that the Colossus carried through his most importantbusiness deals, and its busiest hours were those which most mendevote to rest. But John Burkett Ryder never rested. There couldbe no rest for any man who had a thousand millions of dollars totake care of. Like Macbeth, he could sleep no more. When the humof business life had ceased down town and he returned home fromthe tall building in lower Broadway, then his real work began. Theday had been given to mere business routine; in his own library atnight, free from inquisitive ears and prying eyes, he could devisenew schemes for strengthening his grip upon the country, he couldevolve more gigantic plans for adding to his already countlessmillions. 

Here the money Moloch held court like any king, with as muchceremony and more secrecy, and having for his courtiers some ofthe most prominent men in the political and industrial life ofthe nation. Corrupt senators, grafting Congressmen, ambitiousrailroad presidents, insolent coal barons who impudently claimedthey administered the coal lands in trust for the Almighty, unscrupulous princes of finance and commerce, all visited thisroom to receive orders or pay from the head of the "System. "Here were made and unmade governors of States, mayors of cities, judges, heads of police, cabinet ministers, even presidents. Herewere turned over to confidential agents millions of dollars tooverturn the people's vote in the National elections; here weredistributed yearly hundreds of thousands of dollars to grafters, large and small, who had earned it in the service of the"interests. "

Here, secretly and unlawfully, the heads of railroads met to agreeon rates which by discriminating against one locality in favour ofanother crushed out competition, raised the cost to the consumer, and put millions in the pockets of the Trust. Here were plannedtricky financial operations, with deliberate intent to mislead anddeceive the investing public, operations which would send stockssoaring one day, only a week later to put Wall Street on the vergeof panic. Half a dozen suicides might result from the coup, buttwice as many millions of profits had gone into the coffers of the"System. " Here, too, was perpetrated the most heinous crime thatcan be committed against a free people--the conspiring of theTrusts abetted by the railroads, to arbitrarily raise the pricesof the necessaries of life--meat, coal, oil, ice, gas--whollywithout other justification than that of greed, which, with thesemen, was the unconquerable, all-absorbing passion. In short, everything that unscrupulous leaders of organized capital coulddevise to squeeze the life blood out of the patient, defencelesstoiler was done within these four walls. 

It was a handsome room, noble in proportions and abundantlylighted by three large and deeply recessed, mullioned windows, onein the middle of the room and one at either end. The lofty ceilingwas a marvellously fine example of panelled oak of Gothic design, decorated with gold, and the shelves for books which lined thewalls were likewise of oak, richly carved. In the centre of thewall facing the windows was a massive and elaborately designed oakchimney-piece, reaching up to the ceiling, and having in themiddle panel over the mantel a fine three-quarter length portraitof George Washington. The room was furnished sumptuously yetquietly, and fully in keeping with the rich collection of classicand modern authors that filled the bookcases, and in corners hereand there stood pedestals with marble busts of Shakespeare, Goetheand Voltaire. It was the retreat of a scholar rather than of a manof affairs. 

When Jefferson entered, his father was seated at his desk, a longblack cigar between his lips, giving instructions to Mr. Bagley. Mr. Ryder looked up quickly as the door opened and the secretarymade a movement forward as if to eject the intruder, no matter whohe might be. They were not accustomed to having people enter thesanctum of the Colossus so unceremoniously. But when he saw who itwas, Mr. Ryder's stern, set face relaxed and he greeted his sonamiably. 

"Why, Jeff, my boy, is that you? Just a moment, until I get rid ofBagley, and I'll be with you. "

Jefferson turned to the book shelves and ran over the titles whilethe financier continued his business with the secretary. 

"Now, Bagley. Come, quick. What is it?"

He spoke in a rapid, explosive manner, like a man who has only afew moments to spare before he must rush to catch a train. JohnRyder had been catching trains all his life, and he had seldommissed one. 

"Governor Rice called. He wants an appointment, " said Mr. Bagley, holding out a card. 

"I can't see him. Tell him so, " came the answer, quick as a flash. "Who else?" he demanded. "Where's your list?"

Mr. Bagley took from the desk a list of names and read them over. 

"General Abbey telephoned. He says you promised--"

"Yes, yes, " interrupted Ryder impatiently, "but not here. Downtown, to-morrow, any time. Next?"

The secretary jotted down a note against each name and then said:

"There are some people downstairs in the reception room. They arehere by appointment. "

"Who are they?"

"The National Republican Committee and Sergeant Ellison of theSecret Service from Washington, " replied Mr. Bagley. 

"Who was here first?" demanded the financier. 

"Sergeant Ellison, sir. "

"Then I'll see him first, and the Committee afterwards. But letthem all wait until I ring. I wish to speak with my son. "

He waved his hand and the secretary, knowing well from experiencethat this was a sign that there must be no further discussion, bowed respectfully and left the room. Jefferson turned andadvanced towards his father, who held out his hand. 

"Well, Jefferson, " he said kindly, "did you have a good timeabroad?"

"Yes, sir, thank you. Such a trip is a liberal education initself. "

"Ready for work again, eh? I'm glad you're back, Jefferson. I'mbusy now, but one of these days I want to have a serious talk withyou in regard to your future. This artist business is all verywell--for a pastime. But it's not a career--surely you canappreciate that--for a young man with such prospects as yours. Have you ever stopped to think of that?"

Jefferson was silent. He did not want to displease his father; onthe other hand, it was impossible to let things drift as they hadbeen doing. There must be an understanding sooner or later. Whynot now?

"The truth is, sir, " he began timidly, "I'd like a little talkwith you now, if you can spare the time. "

Ryder, Sr. , looked first at his watch and then at his son, who, ill at ease, sat nervously on the extreme edge of a chair. Then hesaid with a smile:

"Well, my boy, to be perfectly frank, I can't--but--I will. Come, what is it?" Then, as if to apologize for his previousabruptness, he added, "I've had a very busy day, Jeff. What withTrans-Continental and Trans-Atlantic and Southern Pacific, andWall Street, and Rate Bills, and Washington I feel like Atlasshouldering the world. "

"The world wasn't intended for one pair of shoulders to carry, sir, " rejoined Jefferson calmly. 

His father looked at him in amazement. It was something new tohear anyone venturing to question or comment upon anything hesaid. 

"Why not?" he demanded, when he had recovered from his surprise. "Julius Caesar carried it. Napoleon carried it--to a certainextent. However, that's neither here nor there. What is it, boy?"

Unable to remain a moment inactive, he commenced to pick among themass of papers on his desk, while Jefferson was thinking what tosay. The last word his father uttered gave him a cue, and heblurted out protestingly:

"That's just it, sir. You forget that I'm no longer a boy. It'stime to treat me as if I were a man. "

Ryder, Sr. , leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. 

"A man at twenty-eight? That's an excellent joke. Do you know thata man doesn't get his horse sense till he's forty?"

"I want you to take me seriously, " persisted Jefferson. 

Ryder, Sr. , was not a patient man. His moments of good humour wereof brief duration. Anything that savoured of questioning hisauthority always angered him. The smile went out of his face andhe retorted explosively:

"Go on--damn it all! Be serious if you want, only don't take solong about it. But understand one thing. I want no preaching, nophilosophical or socialistic twaddle. No Tolstoi--he's a greatthinker, and you're not. No Bernard Shaw--he's funny, and you'renot. Now go ahead. "

This beginning was not very encouraging, and Jefferson feltsomewhat intimidated. But he realized that he might not haveanother such opportunity, so he plunged right in. 

"I should have spoken to you before if you had let me, " he said. "I often--"

"If I let you?" interrupted his father. "Do you expect me to sitand listen patiently to your wild theories of social reform? Youasked me one day why the wages of the idle rich was wealth and thewages of hard work was poverty, and I told you that I workedharder in one day than a tunnel digger works in a life-time. Thinking is a harder game than any. You must think or you won'tknow. Napoleon knew more about war than all his generals puttogether. I know more about money than any man living to-day. Theman who knows is the man who wins. The man who takes advice isn'tfit to give it. That's why I never take yours. Come, don't be afool, Jeff--give up this art nonsense. Come back to the TradingCompany. I'll make you vice-president, and I'll teach you thebusiness of making millions. "

Jefferson shook his head. It was hard to have to tell his ownfather that he did not think the million-making business quite arespectable one, so he only murmured:

"It's impossible, father. I am devoted to my work. I even intendto go away and travel a few years and see the world. It will helpme considerably. "

Ryder, Sr. , eyed his son in silence for a few moments; then hesaid gently:

"Don't be obstinate, Jeff. Listen to me. I know the world betterthan you do. You mustn't go away. You are the only flesh and bloodI have. "

He stopped speaking for a moment, as if overcome by a suddenemotion over which he had no control. Jefferson remained silent, nervously toying with a paper cutter. Seeing that his words hadmade no effect, Ryder thumped his desk with his fist and cried:

"You see my weakness. You see that I want you with me, and now youtake advantage--you take advantage--"

"No, father, I don't, " protested Jefferson; "but I want to goaway. Although I have my studio and am practically independent, Iwant to go where I shall be perfectly free--where my every movewill not be watched--where I can meet my fellow-man heart to hearton an equal basis, where I shall not be pointed out as the son ofReady Money Ryder. I want to make a reputation of my own as anartist. "

"Why not study theology and become a preacher?" sneered Ryder. Then, more amiably, he said: "No, my lad, you stay here. Study myinterests--study the interests that will be yours some day. "

"No, " said Jefferson doggedly, "I'd rather go--my work and myself-respect demand it. "

"Then go, damn it, go!" cried his father in a burst of anger. "I'ma fool for wasting my time with an ungrateful son. " He rose fromhis seat and began to pace the room. 

"Father, " exclaimed Jefferson starting forward, "you do me aninjustice. "

"An injustice?" echoed Mr. Ryder turning round. "Ye gods! I'vegiven you the biggest name in the commercial world; the mostcolossal fortune ever accumulated by one man is waiting for you, and you say I've done you an injustice!"

"Yes--we are rich, " said Jefferson bitterly. "But at what a cost!You do not go into the world and hear the sneers that I geteverywhere. You may succeed in muzzling the newspapers andmagazines, but you cannot silence public opinion. People laughwhen they hear the name Ryder--when they do not weep. All yourmillions cannot purchase the world's respect. You try to throwmillions to the public as a bone to a dog, and they decline themoney on the ground that it is tainted. Doesn't that tell you whatthe world thinks of your methods?"

Ryder laughed cynically. He went back to his desk, and, sittingfacing his son, he replied:

"Jefferson, you are young. It is one of the symptoms of youth toworry about public opinion. When you are as old as I am you willunderstand that there is only one thing which counts in thisworld--money. The man who has it possesses power over the man whohas it not, and power is what the ambitious man loves most. "

He stopped to pick up a book. It was "The American Octopus. "Turning again to his son, he went on:

"Do you see this book? It is the literary sensation of the year. Why? Because it attacks me--the richest man in the world. It holdsme up as a monster, a tyrant, a man without soul, honour orconscience, caring only for one thing--money; having but onepassion--the love of power, and halting at nothing, not even atcrime, to secure it. That is the portrait they draw of yourfather. "

Jefferson said nothing. He was wondering if his sire had asuspicion who wrote it and was leading up to that. But Ryder, Sr. , continued:

"Do I care? The more they attack me the more I like it. Their punypen pricks have about the same effect as mosquito bites on thepachyderm. What I am, the conditions of my time made me. When Istarted in business a humble clerk, forty years ago, I had but onegoal--success; I had but one aim--to get rich. I was lucky. I madea little money, and I soon discovered that I could make more moneyby outwitting my competitors in the oil fields. Railroadconditions helped me. The whole country was money mad. A wave ofcommercial prosperity swept over the land and I was carried alongon its crest. I grew enormously rich, my millions increasing byleaps and bounds. I branched out into other interests, successfulalways, until my holdings grew to what they are to-day--the wonderof the twentieth century. What do I care for the world's respectwhen my money makes the world my slave? What respect can I havefor a people that cringe before money and let it rule them? Areyou aware that not a factory wheel turns, not a vote is counted, not a judge is appointed, not a legislator seated, not a presidentelected without my consent? I am the real ruler of the UnitedStates--not the so-called government at Washington. They are mypuppets and this is my executive chamber. This power will be yoursone day, boy, but you must know how to use it when it comes. "

"I never want it, father, " said Jefferson firmly. "To me yourwords savour of treason. I couldn't imagine that American talkingthat way. " He pointed to the mantel, at the picture of GeorgeWashington. 

Ryder, Sr. , laughed. He could not help it if his son was anidealist. There was no use getting angry, so he merely shruggedhis shoulders and said:

"All right, Jeff. We'll discuss the matter later, when you've cutyour wisdom teeth. Just at present you're in the clouds. But youspoke of my doing you an injustice. How can my love of power doyou an injustice?"

"Because, " replied Jefferson, "you exert that power over yourfamily as well as over your business associates. You think andwill for everybody in the house, for everyone who comes in contactwith you. Yours is an influence no one seems able to resist. Yourobbed me of my right to think. Ever since I was old enough tothink, you have thought for me; ever since I was old enough tochoose, you have chosen for me. You have chosen that I shouldmarry Kate Roberts. That is the one thing I wished to speak to youabout. The marriage is impossible. "

Ryder, Sr. , half sprang from his seat. He had listened patiently, he thought, to all that his headstrong son had said, but that heshould repudiate in this unceremonious fashion what was a tacitunderstanding between the two families, and, what was more, runthe risk of injuring the Ryder interests--that was inconceivable. Leaving his desk, he advanced into the centre of the room, andfolding his arms confronted Jefferson. 

"So, " he said sternly, "this is your latest act of rebellion, isit? You are going to welsh on your word? You are going to jilt thegirl?"

"I never gave my word, " answered Jefferson hotly. "Nor did Kateunderstand that an engagement existed. You can't expect me tomarry a girl I don't care a straw about. It would not be fair toher. "

"Have you stopped to think whether it would be fair to me?"thundered his father. 

His face was pale with anger, his jet-black eyes flashed, and hiswhite hair seemed to bristle with rage. He paced the floor for afew moments, and then turning to Jefferson, who had not moved, hesaid more calmly:

"Don't be a fool, Jeff. I don't want to think for you, or tochoose for you, or to marry for you. I did not interfere when youthrew up the position I made for you in the Trading Company andtook that studio. I realized that you were restless under theharness, so I gave you plenty of rein. But I know so much betterthan you what is best for you. Believe me I do. Don't--don't beobstinate. This marriage means a great deal to my interests--toyour interests. Kate's father is all powerful in the Senate. He'llnever forgive this disappointment. Hang it all, you liked the girlonce, and I made sure that--"

He stopped suddenly, and the expression on his face changed as anew light dawned upon him. 

"It isn't that Rossmore girl, is it?" he demanded. His face grewdark and his jaw clicked as he said between his teeth: "I told yousome time ago how I felt about her. If I thought that it wasRossmore's daughter! You know what's going to happen to him, don'tyou?"

Thus appealed to, Jefferson thought this was the most favourableopportunity he would have to redeem his promise to Shirley. So, little anticipating the tempest he was about to unchain, heanswered:

"I am familiar with the charges that they have trumped up againsthim. Needless to say, I consider him entirely innocent. What'smore, I firmly believe he is the victim of a contemptibleconspiracy. And I'm going to make it my business to find out whothe plotters are. I came to ask you to help me. Will you?"

For a moment Ryder was speechless from utter astonishment. Then, as he realized the significance of his son's words and theirapplication to himself he completely lost control of himself. Hisface became livid, and he brought his fist down on his desk with aforce that shook the room. 

"I will see him in hell first!" he cried. "Damn him! He has alwaysopposed me. He has always defied my power, and now his daughterhas entrapped my son. So it's her you want to go to, eh? Well, Ican't make you marry a girl you don't want, but I can prevent youthrowing yourself away on the daughter of a man who is about to bepublicly disgraced, and, by God, I will. "

"Poor old Rossmore, " said Jefferson bitterly. "If the history ofevery financial transaction were made known, how many of us wouldescape public disgrace? Would you?" he cried. 

Ryder, Sr. , rose, his hands working dangerously. He made amovement as if about to advance on his son, but by a supremeeffort he controlled himself. 

"No, upon my word, it's no use disinheriting you, you wouldn'tcare. I think you'd be glad; on my soul, I do!" Then calming downonce more, he added: "Jefferson, give me your word of honour thatyour object in going away is not to find out this girl and marryher unknown to me. I don't mind your losing your heart, but, damnit, don't lose your head. Give me your hand on it. "

Jefferson reluctantly held out his hand. 

"If I thought you would marry that girl unknown to me, I'd haveRossmore sent out of the country and the woman too. Listen, boy. This man is my enemy, and I show no mercy to my enemies. There aremore reasons than one why you cannot marry Miss Rossmore. If sheknew one of them she would not marry you. "

"What reasons?" demanded Jefferson. 

"The principal one, " said Ryder, slowly and deliberately, andeyeing his son keenly as if to judge of the effect of his words, "the principal one is that it was through my agents that thedemand was made for her father's impeachment. "

"Ah, " cried Jefferson, "then I guessed aright! Oh, father, howcould you have done that? If you only knew him!"

Ryder, Sr. , had regained command of his temper, and now spokecalmly enough. 

"Jefferson, I don't have to make any apologies to you for the wayI conduct my business. The facts contained in the charge werebrought to my attention. I did not see why I should spare him. Henever spared me. I shall not interfere, and the probabilities arethat he will be impeached. Senator Roberts said this afternoonthat it was a certainty. You see yourself how impossible amarriage with Miss Rossmore would be, don't you?"

"Yes, father, I see now. I have nothing more to say. "

"Do you still intend going away?"

"Yes, " replied Jefferson bitterly. "Why not? You have taken awaythe only reason why I should stay. "

"Think it well over, lad. Marry Kate or not, as you please, but Iwant you to stay here. "

"It's no use. My mind is made up, " answered Jefferson decisively. 

The telephone rang, and Jefferson got up to go. Mr. Ryder took upthe receiver. 

"Hallo! What's that? Sergeant Ellison? Yes, send him up. "

Putting the telephone down, Ryder, Sr. , rose, and crossing theroom accompanied his son to the door. 

"Think it well over, Jeff. Don't be hasty. "

"I have thought it over, sir, and I have decided to go. "

A few moments later Jefferson left the house. 

Ryder, Sr. , went back to his desk and sat for a moment in deepthought. For the first time in his life he was face to face withdefeat; for the first time he had encountered a will as strong ashis own. He who could rule parliaments and dictate to governmentsnow found himself powerless to rule his own son. At all costs, hemused, the boy's infatuation for Judge Rossmore's daughter must bechecked, even if he had to blacken the girl's character as well asthe father's, or, as a last resort, send the entire family out ofthe country. He had not lost sight of his victim since thecarefully prepared crash in Wall Street, and the sale of theRossmore home following the bankruptcy of the Great NorthwesternMining Company. His agents had reported their settlement in thequiet little village on Long Island, and he had also learned ofMiss Rossmore's arrival from Europe, which coincided strangelywith the home-coming of his own son. He decided, therefore, tokeep a closer watch on Massapequa now than ever, and that is whyto-day's call of Sergeant Ellison, a noted sleuth in thegovernment service, found so ready a welcome. 

The door opened, and Mr. Bagley entered, followed by a tall, powerfully built man whose robust physique and cheap lookingclothes contrasted strangely with the delicate, ultra-fashionablyattired English secretary. 

"Take a seat, Sergeant, " said Mr. Ryder, cordially motioning hisvisitor to a chair. The man sat down gingerly on one of the richleather-upholstered chairs. His manner was nervous and awkward, asif intimidated in the presence of the financier. 

"Are the Republican Committee still waiting?" demanded Mr. Ryder. 

"Yes, sir, " replied the secretary. 

"I'll see them in a few minutes. Leave me with Sergeant Ellison. "

Mr. Bagley bowed and retired. 

"Well, Sergeant, what have you got to report?"

He opened a box of cigars that stood on the desk and held it outto the detective. 

"Take a cigar, " he said amiably. 

The man took a cigar, and also the match which Mr. Ryder held out. The financier knew how to be cordial with those who could servehim. 

"Thanks. This is a good one, " smiled the sleuth, sniffing at theweed. "We don't often get a chance at such as these. "

"It ought to be good, " laughed Ryder. "They cost two dollarsapiece. "

The detective was so surprised at this unheard of extravagancethat he inhaled a puff of smoke which almost choked him. It waslike burning money. 

Ryder, with his customary bluntness, came right down to business. 

"Well, what have you been doing about the book?" he demanded. "Have you found the author of 'The American Octopus'?"

"No, sir, I have not. I confess I'm baffled. The secret has beenwell kept. The publishers have shut up like a clam. There's onlyone thing that I'm pretty well sure of. "

"What's that?" demanded Ryder, interested. 

"That no such person as Shirley Green exists. "

"Oh, " exclaimed the financier, "then you think it is a mere _nomde plume_?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And what do you think was the reason for preserving theanonymity?"

"Well, you see, sir, the book deals with a big subject. It givessome hard knocks, and the author, no doubt, felt a little timidabout launching it under his or her real name. At least that's mytheory, sir. "

"And a good one, no doubt, " said Mr. Ryder. Then he added: "Thatmakes me all the more anxious to find out who it is. I wouldwillingly give this moment a check for $5, 000 to know who wroteit. Whoever it is, knows me as well as I know myself. We must findthe author. "

The sleuth was silent for a moment. Then he said:

"There might be one way to reach the author, but it will besuccessful only in the event of her being willing to be known andcome out into the open. Suppose you write to her in care of thepublishers. They would certainly forward the letter to wherevershe may be. If she does not want you to know who she is she willignore your letter and remain in the background. If, on thecontrary, she has no fear of you, and is willing to meet you, shewill answer the letter. "

"Ah, I never thought of that!" exclaimed Ryder. "It's a good idea. I'll write such a letter at once. It shall go to-night. "

He unhooked the telephone and asked Mr. Bagley to come up. A fewseconds later the secretary entered the room. 

"Bagley, " said Mr. Ryder, "I want you to write a letter for me toMiss Shirley Green, author of that book 'The American Octopus. ' Wewill address it care of her publishers, Littleton & Co. Just saythat if convenient I should like a personal interview with her atmy office, No. 36 Broadway, in relation to her book, 'The AmericanOctopus. ' See that it is mailed to-night. That's all. "

Mr. Bagley bowed and retired. Mr. Ryder turned to the secretservice agent. 

"There, that's settled. We'll see how it works. And now, Sergeant, I have another job for you, and if you are faithful to myinterests you will not find me unappreciative. Do you know alittle place on Long Island called Massapequa?"

"Yes, " grinned the detective, "I know it. They've got some finespecimens of 'skeeters' there. "

Paying no attention to this jocularity, Mr. Ryder continued:

"Judge Rossmore is living there--pending the outcome of his casein the Senate. His daughter has just arrived from Europe. My sonJefferson came home on the same ship. They are a little morefriendly than I care to have them. You understand. I want to knowif my son visits the Rossmores, and if he does I wish to be keptinformed of all that's going on. You understand?"

"Perfectly, sir. You shall know everything. "

Mr. Ryder took a blank check from his desk and proceeded to fillit up. Then handing it to the detective, he said:

"Here is $500 for you. Spare neither trouble or expense. "

"Thank you, sir, " said the man as he pocketed the money. "Leave itto me. "

"That's about all, I think. Regarding the other matter, we'll seehow the letter works. "

He touched a bell and rose, which was a signal to the visitor thatthe interview was at an end. Mr. Bagley entered. 

"Sergeant Ellison is going, " said Mr. Ryder. "Have him shown out, and send the Republican Committee up. "

CHAPTER X

"What!" exclaimed Shirley, changing colour, "you believe that JohnBurkett Ryder is at the bottom of this infamous accusation againstfather?"

It was the day following her arrival at Massapequa, and Shirley, the judge and Stott were all three sitting on the porch. Untilnow, by common consent, any mention of the impeachment proceedingshad been avoided by everyone. The previous afternoon and eveninghad been spent listening to an account of Shirley's experiences inEurope and a smile had flitted across even the judge's carewornface as his daughter gave a humorous description of thepicturesque Paris student with their long hair and peg-toptrousers, while Stott simply roared with laughter. Ah, it was goodto laugh again after so much trouble and anxiety! But whileShirley avoided the topic that lay nearest her heart, she wasconsumed with a desire to tell her father of the hope she had ofenlisting the aid of John Burkett Ryder. The great financier wascertainly able to do anything he chose, and had not his sonJefferson promised to win him over to their cause? So, to-day, after Mrs. Rossmore and her sister had gone down to the village tomake some purchases Shirley timidly broached the matter. She askedStott and her father to tell her everything, to hold back nothing. She wanted to hear the worst. 

Stott, therefore, started to review the whole affair from thebeginning, explaining how her father in his capacity as Judge ofthe Supreme Court had to render decisions, several of which wereadverse to the corporate interests of a number of rich men, andhow since that time these powerful interests had used all theirinfluence to get him put off the Bench. He told her about theTranscontinental case and how the judge had got mysteriouslytangled up in the Great Northern Mining Company, and of thescandalous newspaper rumours, followed by the news of theCongressional inquiry. Then he told her about the panic in WallStreet, the sale of the house on Madison Avenue and the removal toLong Island. 

"That is the situation, " said Stott when he had finished. "We arewaiting now to see what the Senate will do. We hope for the best. It seems impossible that the Senate will condemn a man whose wholelife is like an open book, but unfortunately the Senate isstrongly Republican and the big interests are in complete control. Unless support comes from some unexpected quarter we must beprepared for anything. "

Support from some unexpected quarter! Stott's closing words rangin Shirley's head. Was that not just what she had to offer? Unableto restrain herself longer and her heart beating tumultuously fromsuppressed emotion, she cried:

"We'll have that support! We'll have it! I've got it already! Iwanted to surprise you! Father, the most powerful man in theUnited States will save you from being dishonoured!"

The two men leaned forward in eager interest. What could the girlmean? Was she serious or merely jesting?

But Shirley was never more serious in her life. She was jubilantat the thought that she had arrived home in time to invoke the aidof this powerful ally. She repeated enthusiastically:

"We need not worry any more. He has but to say a word and theseproceedings will be instantly dropped. They would not dare actagainst his veto. Did you hear, father, your case is as good aswon!"

"What do you mean, child? Who is this unknown friend?"

"Surely you can guess when I say the most powerful man in theUnited States? None other than John Burkett Ryder!"

She stopped short to watch the effect which this name would haveon her hearers. But to her surprise neither her father nor Stottdisplayed the slightest emotion or even interest. Puzzled at thiscold reception, she repeated:

"Did you hear, father--John Burkett Ryder will come to yourassistance. I came home on the same ship as his son and hepromised to secure his father's aid. "

The judge puffed heavily at his pipe and merely shook his head, making no reply. Stott explained:

"We can't look for help from that quarter, Shirley. You don'texpect a man to cut loose his own kite, do you?"

"What do you mean?" demanded Shirley, mystified. 

"Simply this--that John Burkett Ryder is the very man who isresponsible for all your father's misfortunes. "

The girl sank back in her seat pale and motionless, as if she hadreceived a blow. Was it possible? Could Jefferson's father havedone them such a wrong as this? She well knew that Ryder, Sr. , wasa man who would stop at nothing to accomplish his purpose--thisshe had demonstrated conclusively in her book--but she had neverdreamed that his hand would ever be directed against her own fleshand blood. Decidedly some fatality was causing Jefferson andherself to drift further and further apart. First, her father'strouble. That alone would naturally have separated them. And nowthis discovery that Jefferson's father had done hers this wrong. All idea of marriage was henceforth out of the question. That wasirrevocable. Of course, she could not hold Jefferson to blame formethods which he himself abhorred. She would always think as muchof him as ever, but whether her father emerged safely from thetrial in the Senate or not--no matter what the outcome of theimpeachment proceedings might be, Jefferson could never beanything else than a Ryder and from now on there would be animpassable gulf between the Rossmores and the Ryders. The dovedoes not mate with the hawk. 

"Do you really believe this, that John Ryder deliberatelyconcocted the bribery charge with the sole purpose of ruining myfather?" demanded Shirley when she had somewhat recovered. 

"There is no other solution of the mystery possible, " answered Stott. "The Trusts found they could not fight him in the open, in a fair, honest way, so they plotted in the dark. Ryder was the man who hadmost to lose by your father's honesty on the bench. Ryder was the manhe hit the hardest when he enjoined his Transcontinental Railroad. Ryder, I am convinced, is the chief conspirator. "

"But can such things be in a civilized community?" cried Shirleyindignantly. "Cannot he be exposed, won't the press take thematter up, cannot we show conspiracy?"

"It sounds easy, but it isn't, " replied Stott. "I have had a heapof experience with the law, my child, and I know what I'm talkingabout. They're too clever to be caught tripping. They've coveredtheir tracks well, be sure of that. As to the newspapers--when didyou ever hear of them championing a man when he's down?"

"And you, father--do you believe Ryder did this?"

"I have no longer any doubt of it, " answered the judge. "I thinkJohn Ryder would see me dead before he would raise a finger tohelp me. His answer to my demand for my letters convinced me thathe was the arch plotter. "

"What letters do you refer to?" demanded Shirley. 

"The letters I wrote to him in regard to my making an investment. He advised the purchase of certain stock. I wrote him two lettersat the time, which letters if I had them now would go a long wayto clearing me of this charge of bribery, for they plainly showedthat I regarded the transaction as a _bona fide_ investment. Sincethis trouble began I wrote to Ryder asking him to return me theseletters so I might use them in my defence. The only reply I gotwas an insolent note from his secretary saying that Mr. Ryder hadforgotten all about the transaction, and in any case had not theletters I referred to. "

"Couldn't you compel him to return them?" asked Shirley. 

"We could never get at him, " interrupted Stott. "The man isguarded as carefully as the Czar. "

"Still, " objected Shirley, "it is possible that he may have lostthe letters or even never received them. "

"Oh, he has them safe enough, " replied Stott. "A man like Ryderkeeps every scrap of paper, with the idea that it may prove usefulsome day. The letters are lying somewhere in his desk. Besides, after the Transcontinental decision he was heard to say that he'dhave Judge Rossmore off the Bench inside of a year. "

"And it wasn't a vain boast--he's done it, " muttered the judge. 

Shirley relapsed into silence. Her brain was in a whirl. It wastrue then. This merciless man of money, this ogre of monopolisticcorporations, this human juggernaut had crushed her father merelybecause by his honesty he interfered with his shady businessdeals! Ah, why had she spared him in her book? She felt now thatshe had been too lenient, not bitter enough, not sufficientlypitiless. Such a man was entitled to no mercy. Yes, it was allclear enough now. John Burkett Ryder, the head of "the System, "the plutocrat whose fabulous fortune gave him absolute controlover the entire country, which invested him with a personal powergreater than that of any king, this was the man who now daredattack the Judiciary, the corner stone of the Constitution, theone safeguard of the people's liberty. Where would it end? Howlong would the nation tolerate being thus ruthlessly trodden underthe unclean heels of an insolent oligarchy? The capitalists, bandedtogether for the sole purpose of pillage and loot, had alreadysucceeded in enslaving the toiler. The appalling degradation ofthe working classes, the sordidness and demoralizing squalor inwhich they passed their lives, the curse of drink, the provocationto crime, the shame of the sweat shops--all which evils in oursocial system she had seen as a Settlement worker, were directlytraceable to Centralized Wealth. The labor unions regulated wagesand hours, but they were powerless to control the prices of thenecessaries of life. The Trusts could at pleasure create famine orplenty. They usually willed to make it famine so they themselvesmight acquire more millions with which to pay for marble palaces, fast motor cars, ocean-going yachts and expensive establishmentsat Newport. Food was ever dearer and of poorer quality, clothescost more, rents and taxes were higher. She thought of the horrorsin the packing houses at Chicago recently made the subject of asensational government report--putrid, pestiferous meats put upfor human food amid conditions of unspeakable foulness, freelyexposed to deadly germs from the expectorations of work peoplesuffering from tuberculosis, in unsanitary rotten buildings soakedthrough with blood and every conceivable form of filth and decay, the beef barons careless and indifferent to the dictates of commondecency so long as they could make more money. And while ourpublic gasped in disgust at the sickening revelations of the Beefscandal and foreign countries quickly cancelled their contractsfor American prepared meats, the millionaire packer, insolent inthe possession of wealth stolen from a poisoned public, impudentlyappeared in public in his fashionable touring car, with head erectand self-satisfied, wholly indifferent to his shame. 

These and other evidences of the plutocracy's cruel grip upon thenation had ended by exasperating the people. There must be a limitsomewhere to the turpitudes of a degenerate class of _nouveauxriches_. The day of reckoning was fast approaching for thegrafters and among the first to taste the vengeance of the peoplewould be the Colossus. But while waiting for the people to rise intheir righteous wrath, Ryder was all powerful, and if it were truethat he had instituted these impeachment proceedings her fatherhad little chance. What could be done? They could not sit andwait, as Stott had said, for the action of the Senate. If it weretrue that Ryder controlled the Senate as he controlled everythingelse her father was doomed. No, they must find some other way. 

And long after the judge and Stott had left for the city Shirleysat alone on the porch engrossed in thought, taxing her brain tofind some way out of the darkness. And when presently her motherand aunt returned they found her still sitting there, silent andpreoccupied. If they only had those two letters, she thought. Theyalone might save her father. But how could they be got at? Mr. Ryder had put them safely away, no doubt. He would not give themup. She wondered how it would be to go boldly to him appeal towhatever sense of honour and fairness that might be lying latentwithin him. No, such a man would not know what the terms "honour, ""fairness" meant. She pondered upon it all day and at night whenshe went tired to bed it was her last thought as she dropped offto sleep. 

The following morning broke clear and fine. It was one of thoseglorious, ideal days of which we get perhaps half a dozen duringthe whole summer, days when the air is cool and bracing, champagne-like in its exhilarating effect, and when Nature donsher brightest dress, when the atmosphere is purer, the grassgreener, the sky bluer, the flowers sweeter and the birds sing inmore joyous chorus, when all creation seems in tune. Days thatmake living worth while, when one can forget the ugliness, theselfishness, the empty glitter of the man-made city and walk erectand buoyant in the open country as in the garden of God. 

Shirley went out for a long walk. She preferred to go aloneso she would not have to talk. Hers was one of those lonely, introspective natures that resent the intrusion of aimlesschatter when preoccupied with serious thoughts. Long Islandwas unknown territory to her and it all looked very flat anduninteresting, but she loved the country and found keen delightin the fresh, pure air and the sweet scent of new mown hay waftedfrom the surrounding fields. In her soft, loose-fitting linendress, her white canvas shoes, garden hat trimmed with red roses, and lace parasol, she made an attractive picture and everypasser-by--with the exception of one old farmer and he was halfblind--turned to look at this good-looking girl, a stranger inthose parts and whose stylish appearance suggested Fifth Avenuerather than the commonplace purlieus of Massapequa. 

Every now and then Shirley espied in the distance the figure of aman which she thought she recognized as that of Jefferson. Had hecome, after all? The blood went coursing tumultuously through herveins only a moment later to leave her face a shade paler as theman came nearer and she saw he was a stranger. She wondered whathe was doing, if he gave her a thought, if he had spoken to hisfather and what the latter had said. She could realize now whatMr. Ryder's reply had been. Then she wondered what her future lifewould be. She could do nothing, of course, until the Senate hadpassed upon her father's case, but it was imperative that she getto work. In a day or two, she would call on her publishers andlearn how her book was selling. She might get other commissions. If she could not make enough money in literary work she would haveto teach. It was a dreary outlook at best, and she sighed as shethought of the ambitions that had once stirred her breast. All thebrightness seemed to have gone out of her life, her fatherdisgraced, Jefferson now practically lost to her--only her workremained. 

As she neared the cottage on her return home she caught sight ofthe letter carrier approaching the gate. Instantly she thought ofJefferson, and she hurried to intercept the man. Perhaps he hadwritten instead of coming. 

"Miss Shirley Rossmore?" said the man eyeing her interrogatively. 

"That's I, " said Shirley. 

The postman handed her a letter and passed on. Shirley glancedquickly at the superscription. No, it was not from Jefferson; sheknew his handwriting too well. The envelope, moreover, bore thefirm name of her publishers. She tore it open and found that itmerely contained another letter which the publishers hadforwarded. This was addressed to Miss Shirley Green and ran asfollows:

 _Dear Madam. _--If convenient, I should like to see you at my office, No. 36 Broadway, in relation to your book "The American Octopus. " Kindly inform me as to the day and hour at which I may expect you. 

 Yours truly, JOHN BURKETT RYDER, per B. 

Shirley almost shouted from sheer excitement. At first she wasalarmed--the name John Burkett Ryder was such a bogey to frightenbad children with, she thought he might want to punish her forwriting about him as she had. She hurried to the porch and satthere reading the letter over and over and her brain began toevolve ideas. She had been wondering how she could get at Mr. Ryder and here he was actually asking her to call on him. Evidently he had not the slightest idea of her identity, for hehad been able to reach her only through her publishers and nodoubt he had exhausted every other means of discovering heraddress. The more she pondered over it the more she began to seein this invitation a way of helping her father. Yes, she would goand beard the lion in his den, but she would not go to his office. She would accept the invitation only on condition that theinterview took place in the Ryder mansion where undoubtedly theletters would be found. She decided to act immediately. No timewas to be lost, so she procured a sheet of paper and an envelopeand wrote as follows:

 MR. JOHN BURKETT RYDER, _Dear Sir. _--I do not call upon gentlemen at their business office. Yours, etc. , SHIRLEY GREEN. 

Her letter was abrupt and at first glance seemed hardly calculatedto bring about what she wanted--an invitation to call at the Ryderhome, but she was shrewd enough to see that if Ryder wrote to herat all it was because he was most anxious to see her and herabruptness would not deter him from trying again. On the contrary, the very unusualness of anyone thus dictating to him would makehim more than ever desirous of making her acquaintance. So Shirleymailed the letter and awaited with confidence for Ryder's reply. So certain was she that one would come that she at once began toform her plan of action. She would leave Massapequa at once, andher whereabouts must remain a secret even from her own family. Asshe intended to go to the Ryder house in the assumed character ofShirley Green, it would never do to run the risk of being followedhome by a Ryder detective to the Rossmore cottage. She wouldconfide in one person only--Judge Stott. He would know where shewas and would be in constant communication with her. But, otherwise, she must be alone to conduct the campaign as she judgedfit. She would go at once to New York and take rooms in a boardinghouse where she would be known as Shirley Green. As for funds tomeet her expenses, she had her diamonds, and would they not befilling a more useful purpose if sold to defray the cost of savingher father than in mere personal adornment? So that evening, whileher mother was talking with the judge, she beckoned Stott over tothe corner where she was sitting:

"Judge Stott, " she began, "I have a plan. "

He smiled indulgently at her. 

"Another friend like that of yesterday?" he asked. 

"No, " replied the girl, "listen. I am in earnest now and I wantyou to help me. You said that no one on earth could resist JohnBurkett Ryder, that no one could fight against the Money Power. Well, do you know what I am going to do?"

There was a quiver in her voice and her nostrils were dilated likethose of a thoroughbred eager to run the race. She had risen fromher seat and stood facing him, her fists clenched, her face setand determined. Stott had never seen her in this mood and he gazedat her half admiringly, half curiously. 

"What will you do?" he asked with a slightly ironical inflectionin his voice. 

"I am going to fight John Burkett Ryder!" she cried. 

Stott looked at her open-mouthed. 

"You?" he said. 

"Yes, I, " said Shirley. "I'm going to him and I intend to getthose letters if he has them. "

Stott shook his head. 

 [Photo, from the play, of Shirley discussing her book with Mr. Ryder]

 "How do you classify him?" "As the greatest criminal the world has ever produced. "--Act III. 

"My dear child, " he said, "what are you talking about? How can youexpect to reach Ryder? We couldn't. "

"I don't know just how yet, " replied Shirley, "but I'm going totry. I love my father and I'm going to leave nothing untried tosave him. "

"But what can you do?" persisted Stott. "The matter has beensifted over and over by some of the greatest minds in thecountry. "

"Has any woman sifted it over?" demanded Shirley. 

"No, but--" stammered Stott. 

"Then it's about time one did, " said the girl decisively. "Thoseletters my father speaks of--they would be useful, would theynot?"

"They would be invaluable. "

"Then I'll get them. If not--"

"But I don't understand how you're going to get at Ryder, "interrupted Stott. 

"This is how, " replied Shirley, passing over to him the letter shehad received that afternoon. 

As Stott recognized the well-known signature and read the contentsthe expression of his face changed. He gasped for breath and sankinto a chair from sheer astonishment. 

"Ah, that's different!" he cried, "that's different!"

Briefly Shirley outlined her plan, explaining that she would go tolive in the city immediately and conduct her campaign from there. If she was successful it might save her father and if not no harmcould come of it. 

Stott demurred at first. He did not wish to bear alone theresponsibility of such an adventure. There was no knowing whatmight happen to her, visiting a strange house under an assumedname. But when he saw how thoroughly in earnest she was and thatshe was ready to proceed without him he capitulated. He agreedthat she might be able to find the missing letters or if not thatshe might make some impression on Ryder himself. She could showinterest in the judge's case as a disinterested outsider and somight win his sympathies. From being a sceptic, Stott now becameenthusiastic. He promised to co-operate in every way and to keepShirley's whereabouts an absolute secret. The girl, therefore, began to make her preparations for departure from home by tellingher parents that she had accepted an invitation to spend a week ortwo with an old college chum in New York. 

That same evening her mother, the judge, and Stott went for astroll after dinner and left her to take care of the house. Theyhad wanted Shirley to go, too, but she pleaded fatigue. The truthwas that she wanted to be alone so she could ponder undisturbedover her plans. It was a clear, starlit night, with no moon, andShirley sat on the porch listening to the chirping of the cricketsand idly watching the flashes of the mysterious fireflies. She wasin no mood for reading and sat for a long time rocking herselfengrossed in her thoughts. Suddenly she heard someone unfasten thegarden gate. It was too soon for the return of the promenaders; itmust be a visitor. Through the uncertain penumbra of the gardenshe discerned approaching a form which looked familiar. Yes, nowthere was no doubt possible. It was, indeed, Jefferson Ryder. 

She hurried down the porch to greet him. No matter what the fatherhad done she could never think any the less of the son. He tookher hand and for several moments neither one spoke. There aretimes when silence is more eloquent than speech and this was oneof them. The gentle grip of his big strong hand expressed moretenderly than any words the sympathy that lay in his heart for thewoman he loved. Shirley said quietly:

"You have come at last, Jefferson. "

"I came as soon as I could, " he replied gently. "I saw father onlyyesterday. "

"You need not tell me what he said, " Shirley hastened to say. 

Jefferson made no reply. He understood what she meant. He hung hishead and hit viciously with his walking stick at the pebbles thatlay at his feet. She went on:

"I know everything now. It was foolish of me to think that Mr. Ryder would ever help us. "

"I can't help it in any way, " blurted out Jefferson. "I have notthe slightest influence over him. His business methods I considerdisgraceful--you understand that, don't you, Shirley?"

The girl laid her hand on his arm and replied kindly:

"Of course, Jeff, we know that. Come up and sit down. "

He followed her on the porch and drew up a rocker beside her. 

"They are all out for a walk, " she explained. 

"I'm glad, " he said frankly. "I wanted a quiet talk with you. Idid not care to meet anyone. My name must be odious to yourpeople. "

Both were silent, feeling a certain awkwardness. They seemed tohave drifted apart in some way since those delightful days inParis and on the ship. Then he said:

"I'm going away, but I couldn't go until I saw you. "

"You are going away?" exclaimed Shirley, surprised. 

"Yes, " he said, "I cannot stand it any more at home. I had a hottalk with my father yesterday about one thing and another. He andI don't chin well together. Besides this matter of your father'simpeachment has completely discouraged me. All the wealth in theworld could never reconcile me to such methods! I'm ashamed of therôle my own flesh and blood has played in that miserable affair. Ican't express what I feel about it. "

"Yes, " sighed Shirley, "it is hard to believe that you are the sonof that man!"

"How is your father?" inquired Jefferson. "How does he take it?"

"Oh, his heart beats and he can see and hear and speak, " repliedShirley sadly, "but he is only a shadow of what he once was. Ifthe trial goes against him, I don't think he'll survive it. "

"It is monstrous, " cried Jefferson. "To think that my fathershould be responsible for this thing!"

"We are still hoping for the best, " added Shirley, "but theoutlook is dark. "

"But what are you going to do?" he asked. "These surroundings arenot for you--" He looked around at the cheap furnishings which hecould see through the open window and his face showed realconcern. 

"I shall teach or write, or go out as governess, " replied Shirleywith a tinge of bitterness. Then smiling sadly she added: "Povertyis easy; it is unmerited disgrace which is hard. "

The young man drew his chair closer and took hold of the hand thatlay in her lap. She made no resistance. 

"Shirley, " he said, "do you remember that talk we had on the ship?I asked you to be my wife. You led me to believe that you were notindifferent to me. I ask you again to marry me. Give me the rightto take care of you and yours. I am the son of the world's richestman, but I don't want his money. I have earned a competence of myown--enough to live on comfortably. We will go away where you andyour father and mother will make their home with us. Do not letthe sins of the fathers embitter the lives of the children. "

"Mine has not sinned, " said Shirley bitterly. 

"I wish I could say the same of mine, " replied Jefferson. "It isbecause the clouds are dark about you that I want to come intoyour life to comfort you. "

The girl shook her head. 

"No, Jefferson, the circumstances make such a marriage impossible. Your family and everybody else would say that I had inveigled youinto it. It is even more impossible now than I thought it was whenI spoke to you on the ship. Then I was worried about my father'strouble and could give no thought to anything else. Now it isdifferent. Your father's action has made our union impossible forever. I thank you for the honour you have done me. I do like you. I like you well enough to be your wife, but I will not accept thissacrifice on your part. Your offer, coming at such a criticaltime, is dictated only by your noble, generous nature, by yoursympathy for our misfortune. Afterwards, you might regret it. Ifmy father were convicted and driven from the bench and you foundyou had married the daughter of a disgraced man you would beashamed of us all, and if I saw that it would break my heart. "

Emotion stopped her utterance and she buried her face in her handsweeping silently. 

"Shirley, " said Jefferson gently, "you are wrong. I love you foryourself, not because of your trouble. You know that. I shallnever love any other woman but you. If you will not say 'yes' now, I shall go away as I told my father I would and one day I shallcome back and then if you are still single I shall ask you againto be my wife. "

"Where are you going?" she asked. 

"I shall travel for a year and then, may be, I shall stay a coupleof years in Paris, studying at the Beaux Arts. Then I may go toRome. If I am to do anything worth while in the career I havechosen I must have that European training. "

"Paris! Rome!" echoed Shirley. "How I envy you! Yes, you areright. Get away from this country where the only topic, the onlythought is money, where the only incentive to work is dollars. Gowhere there are still some ideals, where you can breathe theatmosphere of culture and art. "

Forgetting momentarily her own troubles, Shirley chatted on aboutlife in the art centres of Europe, advised Jefferson where to go, with whom to study. She knew people in Paris, Rome and Munich andshe would give him letters to them. Only, if he wanted to perfecthimself in the languages, he ought to avoid Americans andcultivate the natives. Then, who could tell? if he worked hard andwas lucky, he might have something exhibited at the Salon andreturn to America a famous painter. 

"If I do, " smiled Jefferson, "you shall be the first tocongratulate me. I shall come and ask you to be my wife. May I?"he added, Shirley smiled gravely. 

"Get famous first. You may not want me then. "

"I shall always want you, " he whispered hoarsely, bending overher. In the dim light of the porch he saw that her tear-stainedface was drawn and pale. He rose and held out his hand. 

"Good-bye, " he said simply. 

"Good-bye, Jefferson. " She rose and put her hand in his. "We shallalways be friends. I, too, am going away. "

"You going away--where to?" he asked surprised. 

"I have work to do in connection with my father's case, " she said. 

"You?" said Jefferson puzzled. "You have work to do--what work?"

"I can't say what it is, Jefferson. There are good reasons why Ican't. You must take my word for it that it is urgent andimportant work. " Then she added: "You go your way, Jefferson; Iwill go mine. It was not our destiny to belong to each other. Youwill become famous as an artist. And I--"

"And you--" echoed Jefferson. 

"I--I shall devote my life to my father. It's no use, Jefferson--really--I've thought it all out. You must not come backto me--you understand. We must be alone with our grief--father andI. Good-bye. "

He raised her hand to his lips. 

"Good-bye, Shirley. Don't forget me. I shall come back for you. "

He went down the porch and she watched him go out of the gate anddown the road until she could see his figure no longer. Then sheturned back and sank into her chair and burying her face in herhandkerchief she gave way to a torrent of tears which affordedsome relief to the weight on her heart. Presently the othersreturned from their walk and she told them about the visitor. 

"Mr. Ryder's son, Jefferson, was here. We crossed on the sameship. I introduced him to Judge Stott on the dock. "

The judge looked surprised, but he merely said:

"I hope for his sake that he is a different man from his father. "

"He is, " replied Shirley simply, and nothing more was said. 

Two days went by, during which Shirley went on completing thepreparations for her visit to New York. It was arranged that Stottshould escort her to the city. Shortly before they started for thetrain a letter arrived for Shirley. Like the first one it had beenforwarded by her publishers. It read as follows:

 MISS SHIRLEY GREEN, _Dear Madam. _--I shall be happy to see you at my residence--Fifth Avenue--any afternoon that you will mention. Yours very truly, JOHN BURKETT RYDER, per B. 

Shirley smiled in triumph as, unseen by her father and mother, shepassed it over to Stott. She at once sat down and wrote thisreply:

 MR. JOHN BURKETT RYDER, _Dear Sir. _--I am sorry that I am unable to comply with your request. I prefer the invitation to call at your private residence should come from Mrs. Ryder. 

 Yours, etc. , SHIRLEY GREEN. 

She laughed as she showed this to Stott:

"He'll write me again, " she said, "and next time his wife willsign the letter. "

An hour later she left Massapequa for the city. 

CHAPTER XI

The Hon. Fitzroy Bagley had every reason to feel satisfied withhimself. His _affaire de coeur_ with the Senator's daughter wasprogressing more smoothly than ever, and nothing now seemed likelyto interfere with his carefully prepared plans to capture anAmerican heiress. The interview with Kate Roberts in the library, so awkwardly disturbed by Jefferson's unexpected intrusion, hadbeen followed by other interviews more secret and more successful, and the plausible secretary had contrived so well to persuade thegirl that he really thought the world of her, and that a brilliantfuture awaited her as his wife, that it was not long before hefound her in a mood to refuse him nothing. 

Bagley urged immediate marriage; he insinuated that Jefferson hadtreated her shamefully and that she owed it to herself to show theworld that there were other men as good as the one who had jiltedher. He argued that in view of the Senator being bent on the matchwith Ryder's son it would be worse than useless for him, Bagley, to make formal application for her hand, so, as he explained, theonly thing which remained was a runaway marriage. Confronted withthe _fait accompli_, papa Roberts would bow to the inevitable. They could get married quietly in town, go away for a short trip, and when the Senator had gotten over his first disappointment theywould be welcomed back with open arms. 

Kate listened willingly enough to this specious reasoning. In herheart she was piqued at Jefferson's indifference and she wasfoolish enough to really believe that this marriage with a Britishnobleman, twice removed, would be in the nature of a triumph overhim. Besides, this project of an elopement appealed strangely toher frivolous imagination; it put her in the same class as all herfavourite novel heroines. And it would be capital fun!

Meantime, Senator Roberts, in blissful ignorance of this littleplot against his domestic peace, was growing impatient and heapproached his friend Ryder once more on the subject of his sonJefferson. The young man, he said, had been back from Europe sometime. He insisted on knowing what his attitude was towards hisdaughter. If they were engaged to be married he said there shouldbe a public announcement of the fact. It was unfair to him and aslight to his daughter to let matters hang fire in thisunsatisfactory way and he hinted that both himself and hisdaughter might demand their passports from the Ryder mansionunless some explanation were forthcoming. 

Ryder was in a quandary. He had no wish to quarrel with his usefulWashington ally; he recognized the reasonableness of hiscomplaint. Yet what could he do? Much as he himself desired themarriage, his son was obstinate and showed little inclination tosettle down. He even hinted at attractions in another quarter. Hedid not tell the Senator of his recent interview with his son whenthe latter made it very plain that the marriage could never takeplace. Ryder, Sr. , had his own reasons for wishing to temporize. It was quite possible that Jefferson might change his mind andabandon his idea of going abroad and he suggested to the Senatorthat perhaps if he, the Senator, made the engagement publicthrough the newspapers it might have the salutary effect offorcing his son's hand. 

So a few mornings later there appeared among the society notes inseveral of the New York papers this paragraph:

 "The engagement is announced of Miss Katherine Roberts, only daughter of senator Roberts of Wisconsin, to Jefferson Ryder, son of Mr. John Burkett Ryder. "

Two persons in New York happened to see the item about the sametime and both were equally interested, although it affected themin a different manner. One was Shirley Rossmore, who had chancedto pick up the newspaper at the breakfast table in her boardinghouse. 

"So soon?" she murmured to herself. Well, why not? She could notblame Jefferson. He had often spoken to her of this match arrangedby his father and they had laughed over it as a typical marriageof convenience modelled after the Continental pattern. Jefferson, she knew, had never cared for the girl nor taken the affairseriously. Some powerful influences must have been at work to makehim surrender so easily. Here again she recognized the masterlyhand of Ryder, Sr. , and more than ever she was eager to meet thisextraordinary man and measure her strength with his. Her mind, indeed, was too full of her father's troubles to grieve over herown however much she might have been inclined to do so under othercircumstances, and all that day she did her best to banish theparagraph from her thoughts. More than a week had passed since sheleft Massapequa and what with corresponding with financiers, calling on editors and publishers, every moment of her time hadbeen kept busy. She had found a quiet and reasonable pricedboarding house off Washington Square and here Stott had calledseveral times to see her. Her correspondence with Mr. Ryder hadnow reached a phase when it was impossible to invent any furtherexcuses for delaying the interview asked for. As she had foreseen, a day or two after her arrival in town she had received a notefrom Mrs. Ryder asking her to do her the honour to call and seeher, and Shirley, after waiting another two days, had repliedmaking an appointment for the following day at three o'clock. Thiswas the same day on which the paragraph concerning the Ryder-Robertsengagement appeared in the society chronicles of the metropolis. 

Directly after the meagre meal which in New York boarding housesis dignified by the name of luncheon, Shirley proceeded to getready for this portentous visit to the Ryder mansion. She wasanxious to make a favourable impression on the financier, so shetook some pains with her personal appearance. She always lookedstylish, no matter what she wore, and her poverty was of toorecent date to make much difference to her wardrobe, which wasstill well supplied with Paris-made gowns. She selected a simpleclose-fitting gown of gray chiffon cloth and a picture hat ofLeghorn straw heaped with red roses, Shirley's favourite flower. Thus arrayed, she sallied forth at two o'clock--a little graymouse to do battle with the formidable lion. 

The sky was threatening, so instead of walking a short way upFifth Avenue for exercise, as she had intended doing, she cutacross town through Ninth Street, and took the surface car onFourth Avenue. This would put her down at Madison Avenue andSeventy-fourth Street, which was only a block from the Ryderresidence. She looked so pretty and was so well dressed that thepassers-by who looked after her wondered why she did not take acab instead of standing on a street corner for a car. But one'soutward appearance is not always a faithful index to the conditionof one's pocketbook, and Shirley was rapidly acquiring the art ofeconomy. 

It was not without a certain trepidation that she began thisjourney. So far, all her plans had been based largely on theory, but now that she was actually on her way to Mr. Ryder all sorts ofmisgivings beset her. Suppose he knew her by sight and roughlyaccused her of obtaining access to his house under false pretencesand then had her ejected by the servants? How terrible andhumiliating that would be! And even if he did not how could shepossibly find those letters with him watching her, and all in thebrief time of a conventional afternoon call? It had been an absurdidea from the first. Stott was right; she saw that now. But shehad entered upon it and she was not going to confess herselfbeaten until she had tried. And as the car sped along MadisonAvenue, gradually drawing nearer to the house which she was goingto enter disguised as it were, like a burglar, she felt coldchills run up and down her spine--the same sensation that oneexperiences when one rings the bell of a dentist's where one hasgone to have a tooth extracted. In fact, she felt so nervous andfrightened that if she had not been ashamed before herself shewould have turned back. In about twenty minutes the car stopped atthe corner of Seventy-fourth Street. Shirley descended and with aquickened pulse walked towards the Ryder mansion, which she knewwell by sight. 

There was one other person in New York who, that same morning, hadread the newspaper item regarding the Ryder-Roberts betrothal, andhe did not take the matter so calmly as Shirley had done. On thecontrary, it had the effect of putting him into a violent rage. This was Jefferson. He was working in his studio when he read itand five minutes later he was tearing up-town to seek the authorof it. He understood its object, of course; they wanted to forcehis hand, to shame him into this marriage, to so entangle him withthe girl that no other alternative would be possible to anhonourable man. It was a despicable trick and he had no doubt thathis father was at the back of it. So his mind now was fully madeup. He would go away at once where they could not make his life aburden with this odious marriage which was fast becoming anightmare to him. He would close up his studio and leaveimmediately for Europe. He would show his father once for all thathe was a man and expected to be treated as one. 

He wondered what Shirley was doing. Where had she gone, what wasthis mysterious work of which she had spoken? He only realizednow, when she seemed entirely beyond his reach, how much he lovedher and how empty his life would be without her. He would know nohappiness until she was his wife. Her words on the porch did notdiscourage him. Under the circumstances he could not expect her tohave said anything else. She could not marry into John Ryder'sfamily with such a charge hanging over her own father's head, but, later, when the trial was over, no matter how it turned out, hewould go to her again and ask her to be his wife. 

On arriving home the first person he saw was the ubiquitous Mr. Bagley, who stood at the top of the first staircase giving someletters to the butler. Jefferson cornered him at once, holding outthe newspaper containing the offending paragraph. 

"Say, Bagley, " he cried, "what does this mean? Is this any of yourdoing?"

The English secretary gave his employer's son a haughty stare, andthen, without deigning to reply or even to glance at thenewspaper, continued his instructions to the servant:

"Here, Jorkins, get stamps for all these letters and see they aremailed at once. They are very important. "

"Very good, sir. "

The man took the letters and disappeared, while Jefferson, impatient, repeated his question:

"My doing?" sneered Mr. Bagley. "Really, Jefferson, you go toofar! Do you suppose for one instant that I would condescend totrouble myself with your affairs?"

Jefferson was in no mood to put up with insolence from anyone, especially from a man whom he heartily despised, so advancingmenacingly he thundered:

"I mean--were you, in the discharge of your menial-like duties, instructed by my father to send that paragraph to the newspapersregarding my alleged betrothal to Miss Roberts? Yes or No?"

The man winced and made a step backward. There was a gleam in theRyder eye which he knew by experience boded no good. 

"Really, Jefferson, " he said in a more conciliatory tone, "I knowabsolutely nothing about the paragraph. This is the first I hearof it. Why not ask your father?"

"I will, " replied Jefferson grimly. 

He was turning to go in the direction of the library when Bagleystopped him. 

"You cannot possibly see him now, " he said. "Sergeant Ellison ofthe Secret Service is in there with him, and your father told menot to disturb him on any account. He has another appointment atthree o'clock with some woman who writes books. "

Seeing that the fellow was in earnest, Jefferson did not insist. He could see his father a little later or send him a messagethrough his mother. Proceeding upstairs he found Mrs. Ryder in herroom and in a few energetic words he explained the situation tohis mother. They had gone too far with this match-making business, he said, his father was trying to interfere with his personalliberty and he was going to put a stop to it. He would leave atonce for Europe. Mrs. Ryder had already heard of the projectedtrip abroad, so the news of this sudden departure was not theshock it might otherwise have been. In her heart she did not blameher son, on the contrary she admired his spirit, and if thetemporary absence from home would make him happier, she would nothold him back. Yet, mother like, she wept and coaxed, but nothingwould shake Jefferson in his determination and he begged hismother to make it very plain to his father that this was final andthat a few days would see him on his way abroad. He would try andcome back to see his father that afternoon, but otherwise she wasto say good-bye for him. Mrs. Ryder promised tearfully to do whather son demanded and a few minutes later Jefferson was on his wayto the front door. 

As he went down stairs something white on the carpet attracted hisattention. He stooped and picked it up. It was a letter. It was inBagley's handwriting and had evidently been dropped by the man towhom the secretary had given it to post. But what interestedJefferson more than anything else was that it was addressed toMiss Kate Roberts. Under ordinary circumstances, a king's ransomwould not have tempted the young man to read a letter addressed toanother, but he was convinced that his father's secretary was anadventurer and if he were carrying on an intrigue in this mannerit could have only one meaning. It was his duty to unveil a rascalwho was using the Ryder roof and name to further his own ends andvictimize a girl who, although sophisticated enough to knowbetter, was too silly to realize the risk she ran at the hands ofan unscrupulous man. Hesitating no longer, Jefferson tore open theenvelope and read:

 My dearest wife that is to be:

 I have arranged everything. Next Wednesday--just a week from to-day--we will go to the house of a discreet friend of mine where a minister will marry us; then we will go to City Hall and get through the legal part of it. Afterwards, we can catch the four o'clock train for Buffalo. Meet me in the ladies' room at the Holland House Wednesday morning at 11 a. M. I will come there with a closed cab. Your devoted FITZ. 

"Phew!" Jefferson whistled. A close shave this for SenatorRoberts, he thought. His first impulse was to go upstairs again tohis mother and put the matter in her hands. She would immediatelyinform his father, who would make short work of Mr. Bagley. But, thought Jefferson, why should he spoil a good thing? He couldafford to wait a day or two. There was no hurry. He could allowBagley to think all was going swimmingly and then uncover the plotat the eleventh hour. He would even let this letter go to Kate, there was no difficulty in procuring another envelope andimitating the handwriting--and when Bagley was just preparing togo to the rendezvous he would spring the trap. Such a cad deservedno mercy. The scandal would be a knock-out blow, his father woulddischarge him on the spot and that would be the last they wouldsee of the aristocratic English secretary. Jefferson put theletter in his pocket and left the house rejoicing. 

While the foregoing incidents were happening John Burkett Ryderwas secluded in his library. The great man had come home earlierthan usual, for he had two important callers to see by appointmentthat afternoon. One was Sergeant Ellison, who had to report on hismission to Massapequa; the other was Miss Shirley Green, theauthor of "The American Octopus, " who had at last deigned tohonour him with a visit. Pending the arrival of these visitors thefinancier was busy with his secretary trying to get rid as rapidlyas possible of what business and correspondence there was on hand. 

The plutocrat was sitting at his desk poring over a mass ofpapers. Between his teeth was the inevitable long black cigar andwhen he raised his eyes to the light a close observer might haveremarked that they were sea-green, a colour they assumed when theman of millions was absorbed in scheming new business deals. Everynow and then he stopped reading the papers to make quickcalculations on scraps of paper. Then if the result pleased him, asmile overspread his saturnine features. He rose from his chairand nervously paced the floor as he always did when thinkingdeeply. 

"Five millions, " he muttered, "not a cent more. If they won't sellwe'll crush them--"

Mr. Bagley entered. Mr. Ryder looked up quickly. 

"Well, Bagley?" he said interrogatively. "Has Sergeant Ellisoncome?"

"Yes, sir. But Mr. Herts is downstairs. He insists on seeing youabout the Philadelphia gas deal. He says it is a matter of lifeand death. "

"To him--yes, " answered the financier dryly. "Let him come up. Wemight as well have it out now. "

Mr. Bagley went out and returned almost immediately, followed by ashort, fat man, rather loudly dressed and apoplectic inappearance. He looked like a prosperous brewer, while, as a matterof fact, he was president of a gas company, one of the shrewdestpromoters in the country, and a big man in Wall Street. There wasonly one bigger man and that was John Ryder. But, to-day, Mr. Herts was not in good condition. His face was pale and his mannerflustered and nervous. He was plainly worried. 

"Mr. Ryder, " he began with excited gesture, "the terms you offerare preposterous. It would mean disaster to the stockholders. Ourgas properties are worth six times that amount. We will sell outfor twenty millions--not a cent less. "

Ryder shrugged his shoulders. 

"Mr. Herts, " he replied coolly, "I am busy to-day and in no moodfor arguing. We'll either buy you out or force you out. Choose. You have our offer. Five millions for your gas property. Will youtake it?"

"We'll see you in hell first!" cried his visitor exasperated. 

"Very well, " replied Ryder still unruffled, "all negotiations areoff. You leave me free to act. We have an offer to buy cheap theold Germantown Gas Company which has charter rights to go into anyof the streets of Philadelphia. We shall purchase that company, wewill put ten millions new capital into it, and reduce the price ofgas in Philadelphia to sixty cents a thousand. Where will you bethen?"

The face of the Colossus as he uttered this stand and deliverspeech was calm and inscrutable. Conscious of the resistless powerof his untold millions, he felt no more compunction in mercilesslycrushing this business rival than he would in trampling out thelife of a worm. The little man facing him looked haggard anddistressed. He knew well that this was no idle threat. He was wellaware that Ryder and his associates by the sheer weight of theenormous wealth they controlled could sell out or destroy anyindustrial corporation in the land. It was plainly illegal, but itwas done every day, and his company was not the first victim northe last. Desperate, he appealed humbly to the tyrannical MoneyPower:

"Don't drive us to the wall, Mr. Ryder. This forced sale will meandisaster to us all. Put yourself in our place--think what it meansto scores of families whose only support is the income from theirinvestment in our company. "

"Mr. Herts, " replied Ryder unmoved, "I never allow sentiment tointerfere with business. You have heard my terms. I refuse toargue the matter further. What is it to be? Five millions orcompetition? Decide now or this interview must end!"

He took out his watch and with his other hand touched a bell. Beads of perspiration stood on his visitor's forehead. In a voicebroken with suppressed emotion he said hoarsely:

"You're a hard, pitiless man, John Ryder! So be it--five millions. I don't know what they'll say. I don't dare return to them. "

"Those are my terms, " said Ryder coldly. "The papers, " he added, "will be ready for your signature to-morrow at this time, and I'llhave a cheque ready for the entire amount. Good-day. "

Mr. Bagley entered. Ryder bowed to Herts, who slowly retired. Whenthe door had closed on him Ryder went back to his desk, a smile oftriumph on his face. Then he turned to his secretary:

"Let Sergeant Ellison come up, " he said. 

The secretary left the room and Mr. Ryder sank comfortably in hischair, puffing silently at his long black cigar. The financier wasthinking, but his thoughts concerned neither the luckless gaspresident he had just pitilessly crushed, nor the detective whohad come to make his report. He was thinking of the book "TheAmerican Octopus, " and its bold author whom he was to meet in avery few minutes. He glanced at the clock. A quarter to three. Shewould be here in fifteen minutes if she were punctual, but womenseldom are, he reflected. What kind of a woman could she be, thisShirley Green, to dare cross swords with a man whose power wasfelt in two hemispheres? No ordinary woman, that was certain. Hetried to imagine what she looked like, and he pictured a tall, gaunt, sexless spinster with spectacles, a sort of nightmare inthe garb of a woman. A sour, discontented creature, bitter to allmankind, owing to disappointments in early life and especiallyvindictive towards the rich, whom her socialistic and evenanarchistical tendencies prompted her to hate and attack. Yet, withal, a brainy, intelligent woman, remarkably well informed asto political and industrial conditions--a woman to make a friendof rather than an enemy. And John Ryder, who had educated himselfto believe that with gold he could do everything, that none couldresist its power, had no doubt that with money he could enlistthis Shirley Green in his service. At least it would keep her fromwriting more books about him. 

The door opened and Sergeant Ellison entered, followed by thesecretary, who almost immediately withdrew. 

"Well, sergeant, " said Mr. Ryder cordially, "what have you to tellme? I can give you only a few minutes. I expect a lady friend ofyours. "

The plutocrat sometimes condescended to be jocular with hissubordinates. 

"A lady friend of mine, sir?" echoed the man, puzzled. 

"Yes--Miss Shirley Green, the author, " replied the financier, enjoying the detective's embarrassment. "That suggestion of yoursworked out all right. She's coming here to-day. "

"I'm glad you've found her, sir. "

"It was a tough job, " answered Ryder with a grimace. "We wrote herhalf a dozen times before she was satisfied with the wording ofthe invitation. But, finally, we landed her and I expect her atthree o'clock. Now what about that Rossmore girl? Did you go downto Massapequa?"

"Yes, sir, I have been there half a dozen times. In fact, I'vejust come from there. Judge Rossmore is there, all right, but hisdaughter has left for parts unknown. "

"Gone away--where?" exclaimed the financier. 

This was what he dreaded. As long as he could keep his eye on thegirl there was little danger of Jefferson making a fool ofhimself; with her disappeared everything was possible. 

"I could not find out, sir. Their neighbours don't know much aboutthem. They say they're haughty and stuck up. The only one I couldget anything out of was a parson named Deetle. He said it was asad case, that they had reverses and a daughter who was inParis--"

"Yes, yes, " said Ryder impatiently, "we know all that. But where'sthe daughter now?"

"Search me, sir. I even tried to pump the Irish slavey. Gee, whata vixen! She almost flew at me. She said she didn't know anddidn't care. "

Ryder brought his fist down with force on his desk, a trick he hadwhen he wished to emphasize a point. 

"Sergeant, I don't like the mysterious disappearance of that girl. You must find her, do you hear, you must find her if it takes allthe sleuths in the country. Had my son been seen there?"

"The parson said he saw a young fellow answering his descriptionsitting on the porch of the Rossmore cottage the evening beforethe girl disappeared, but he didn't know who he was and hasn'tseen him since. "

"That was my son, I'll wager. He knows where the girl is. Perhapshe's with her now. Maybe he's going to marry her. That must beprevented at any cost. Sergeant, find that Rossmore girl and I'llgive you $1, 000. "

The detective's face flushed with pleasure at the prospect of soliberal a reward. Rising he said:

"I'll find her, sir. I'll find her. "

Mr. Bagley entered, wearing the solemn, important air he alwaysaffected when he had to announce a visitor of consequence. Butbefore he could open his mouth Mr. Ryder said:

"Bagley, when did you see my son, Jefferson, last?"

"To-day, sir. He wanted to see you to say good-bye. He said hewould be back. "

Ryder gave a sigh of relief and addressing the detective said:

"It's not so bad as I thought. " Then turning again to hissecretary he asked:

"Well, Bagley, what is it?"

"There's a lady downstairs, sir--Miss Shirley Green. "

The financier half sprang from his seat. 

"Oh, yes. Show her up at once. Good-bye, sergeant, good-bye. Findthat Rossmore woman and the $1, 000 is yours. "

The detective went out and a few moments later Mr. Bagleyreappeared ushering in Shirley. 

The mouse was in the den of the lion. 

CHAPTER XII

Mr. Ryder remained at his desk and did not even look up when hisvisitor entered. He pretended to be busily preoccupied with hispapers, which was a favourite pose of his when receivingstrangers. This frigid reception invariably served its purpose, for it led visitors not to expect more than they got, whichusually was little enough. For several minutes Shirley stoodstill, not knowing whether to advance or to take a seat. She gavea little conventional cough, and Ryder looked up. What he saw soastonished him that he at once took from his mouth the cigar hewas smoking and rose from his seat. He had expected a gaunt oldmaid with spectacles, and here was a stylish, good-looking youngwoman, who could not possibly be over twenty-five. There wassurely some mistake. This slip of a girl could not have written"The American Octopus. " He advanced to greet Shirley. 

"You wish to see me, Madame?" he asked courteously. There weretimes when even John Burkett Ryder could be polite. 

"Yes, " replied Shirley, her voice trembling a little; in spite ofher efforts to keep cool. "I am here by appointment. Threeo'clock, Mrs. Ryder's note said. I am Miss Green. "

"_You_--Miss Green?" echoed the financier dubiously. 

"Yes, I am Miss Green--Shirley Green, author of 'The AmericanOctopus. ' You asked me to call. Here I am. "

For the first time in his life, John Ryder was nonplussed. Hecoughed and stammered and looked round for a place where he couldthrow his cigar. Shirley, who enjoyed his embarrassment, put himat his ease. 

"Oh, please go on smoking, " she said; "I don't mind it in theleast. "

Ryder threw the cigar into a receptacle and looked closely at hisvisitor. 

"So you are Shirley Green, eh?"

"That is my _nom-de-plume_--yes, " replied the girl nervously. Shewas already wishing herself back at Massapequa. The financier eyedher for a moment in silence as if trying to gauge the strength ofthe personality of this audacious young woman, who had dared tocriticise his business methods in public print; then, waving herto a seat near his desk, he said:

"Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you, " murmured Shirley. She sat down, and he took his seatat the other side of the desk, which brought them face to face. Again inspecting the girl with a close scrutiny that made hercheeks burn, Ryder said:

"I rather expected--" He stopped for a moment as if uncertain whatto say, then he added: "You're younger than I thought you were, Miss Green, much younger. "

"Time will remedy that, " smiled Shirley. Then, mischievously, sheadded: "I rather expected to see Mrs. Ryder. "

There was the faintest suspicion of a smile playing around thecorners of the plutocrat's mouth as he picked up a book lying onhis desk and replied:

"Yes--she wrote you, but I--wanted to see you about this. "

Shirley's pulse throbbed faster, but she tried hard to appearunconcerned as she answered:

"Oh, my book--have you read it?"

"I have, " replied Ryder slowly and, fixing her with a stare thatwas beginning to make her uncomfortable, he went on: "No doubtyour time is valuable, so I'll come right to the point. I want toask you, Miss Green, where you got the character of your centralfigure--the Octopus, as you call him--John Broderick?"

"From imagination--of course, " answered Shirley. 

Ryder opened the book, and Shirley noticed that there were severalpassages marked. He turned the leaves over in silence for a minuteor two and then he said:

"You've sketched a pretty big man here--"

"Yes, " assented Shirley, "he has big possibilities, but I think hemakes very small use of them. "

Ryder appeared not to notice her commentary, and, still readingthe book, he continued:

"On page 22 you call him '_the world's greatest individualizedpotentiality, a giant combination of materiality, mentality andmoney--the greatest exemplar of individual human will in existenceto-day. _' And you make indomitable will and energy the keystone ofhis marvellous success. Am I right?" He looked at her questioningly. 

"Quite right, " answered Shirley. 

Ryder proceeded:

"On page 26 you say '_the machinery of his money-making mindtypifies the laws of perpetual unrest. It must go on, relentlessly, resistlessly, ruthlessly making money--making money and continuingto make money. It cannot stop until the machinery crumbles. _'"

Laying the book down and turning sharply on Shirley, he asked herbluntly:

"Do you mean to say that I couldn't stop to-morrow if I wantedto?"

She affected to not understand him. 

"_You?_" she inquired in a tone of surprise. 

"Well--it's a natural question, " stammered Ryder, with a nervouslittle laugh; "every man sees himself in the hero of a novel justas every woman sees herself in the heroine. We're all heroes andheroines in our own eyes. But tell me what's your private opinionof this man. You drew the character. What do you think of him as atype, how would you classify him?"

"As the greatest criminal the world has yet produced, " repliedShirley without a moment's hesitation. 

The financier looked at the girl in unfeigned astonishment. 

"Criminal?" he echoed. 

"Yes, criminal, " repeated Shirley decisively. "He is avarice, egotism, and ambition incarnate. He loves money because he lovespower, and he loves power more than his fellow man. "

Ryder laughed uneasily. Decidedly, this girl had opinions of herown which she was not backward to express. 

"Isn't that rather strong?" he asked. 

"I don't think so, " replied Shirley. Then quickly she asked: "Butwhat does it matter? No such man exists. "

"No, of course not, " said Ryder, and he relapsed into silence. 

Yet while he said nothing, the plutocrat was watching his visitorclosely from under his thick eyebrows. She seemed supremelyunconscious of his scrutiny. Her aristocratic, thoughtful facegave no sign that any ulterior motive had actuated her evidentlyvery hostile attitude against him. That he was in her mind whenshe drew the character of John Broderick there was no doubtpossible. No matter how she might evade the identification, he wasconvinced he was the hero of her book. Why had she attacked him sobitterly? At first, it occurred to him that blackmail might be herobject; she might be going to ask for money as the price of futuresilence. Yet it needed but a glance at her refined and modestdemeanour to dispel that idea as absurd. Then he remembered, too, that it was not she who had sought this interview, but himself. No, she was no blackmailer. More probably she was a dreamer--oneof those meddling sociologists who, under pretence of betteringthe conditions of the working classes, stir up discontent andbitterness of feeling. As such; she might prove more to be fearedthan a mere blackmailer whom he could buy off with money. He knewhe was not popular, but he was no worse than the other captains ofindustry. It was a cut-throat game at best. Competition was thesoul of commercial life, and if he had outwitted his competitorsand made himself richer than all of them, he was not a criminalfor that. But all these attacks in newspapers and books did not dohim any good. One day the people might take these demagogicwritings seriously and then there would be the devil to pay. Hetook up the book again and ran over the pages. This certainly wasno ordinary girl. She knew more and had a more direct way ofsaying things than any woman he had ever met. And as he watchedher furtively across the desk he wondered how he could use her;how instead of being his enemy, he could make her his friend. Ifhe did not, she would go away and write more such books, andliterature of this kind might become a real peril to hisinterests. Money could do anything; it could secure the servicesof this woman and prevent her doing further mischief. But howcould he employ her? Suddenly an inspiration came to him. For someyears he had been collecting material for a history of the EmpireTrading Company. She could write it. It would practically be hisown biography. Would she undertake it?

Embarrassed by the long silence, Shirley finally broke it bysaying:

"But you didn't ask me to call merely to find out what I thoughtof my own work. "

"No, " replied Ryder slowly, "I want you to do some work for me. "

He opened a drawer at the left-hand side of his desk and took outseveral sheets of foolscap and a number of letters. Shirley'sheart beat faster as she caught sight of the letters. Were herfather's among them? She wondered what kind of work John BurkettRyder had for her to do and if she would do it whatever it was. Some literary work probably, compiling or something of that kind. If it was well paid, why should she not accept? There would benothing humiliating in it; it would not tie her hands in any way. She was a professional writer in the market to be employed bywhoever could pay the price. Besides, such work might give herbetter opportunities to secure the letters of which she was insearch. Gathering in one pile all the papers he had removed fromthe drawer, Mr. Ryder said:

"I want you to put my biography together from this material. Butfirst, " he added, taking up "The American Octopus, " "I want toknow where you got the details of this man's life. "

"Oh, for the most part--imagination, newspapers, magazines, "replied Shirley carelessly. "You know the American millionaire isa very overworked topic just now--and naturally I've read--"

"Yes, I understand, " he said, "but I refer to what you haven'tread--what you couldn't have read. For example, here. " He turnedto a page marked in the book and read aloud: "_As an evidence ofhis petty vanity, when a youth he had a beautiful Indian girltattooed just above the forearm. _" Ryder leaned eagerly forward ashe asked her searchingly: "Now who told you that I had my armtattooed when I was a boy?"

"Have you?" laughed Shirley nervously. "What a curiouscoincidence!"

"Let me read you another coincidence, " said Ryder meaningly. Heturned to another part of the book and read: "_the same eternallong black cigar always between his lips_ . .. "

"General Grant smoked, too, " interrupted Shirley. "All men whothink deeply along material lines seem to smoke. "

"Well, we'll let that go. But how about this?" He turned back afew pages and read: "_John Broderick had loved, when a young man, a girl who lived in Vermont, but circumstances separated them. _"He stopped and stared at Shirley a moment and then he said: "Iloved a girl when I was a lad and she came from Vermont, andcircumstances separated us. That isn't coincidence, for presentlyyou make John Broderick marry a young woman who had money. Imarried a girl with money. "

"Lots of men marry for money, " remarked Shirley. 

"I said _with_ money, not for money, " retorted Ryder. Then turningagain to the book, he said: "Now, this is what I can't understand, for no one could have told you this but I myself. Listen. " He readaloud: "_With all his physical bravery and personal courage, JohnBroderick was intensely afraid of death. It was on his mindconstantly. _" "Who told you that?" he demanded somewhat roughly. "I swear I've never mentioned it to a living soul. "

"Most men who amass money are afraid of death, " replied Shirleywith outward composure, "for death is about the only thing thatcan separate them from their money. "

Ryder laughed, but it was a hollow, mocking laugh, neither sincerenor hearty. It was a laugh such as the devil may have given whendriven out of heaven. 

"You're quite a character!" He laughed again, and Shirley, catching the infection, laughed, too. 

"It's me and it isn't me, " went on Ryder flourishing the book. "This fellow Broderick is all right; he's successful and he'sgreat, but I don't like his finish. "

"It's logical, " ventured Shirley. 

"It's cruel, " insisted Ryder. 

"So is the man who reverses the divine law and hates his neighbourinstead of loving him, " retorted Shirley. 

She spoke more boldly, beginning to feel more sure of her ground, and it amused her to fence in this way with the man of millions. So far, she thought, he had not got the best of her. She was fastbecoming used to him, and her first feeling of intimidation waspassing away. 

"Um!" grunted Ryder, "you're a curious girl; upon my word youinterest me!" He took the mass of papers lying at his elbow andpushed them over to her. "Here, " he said, "I want you to make asclever a book out of this chaos as you did out of your ownimagination. "

Shirley turned the papers over carelessly. 

"So you think your life is a good example to follow?" she askedwith a tinge of irony. 

"Isn't it?" he demanded. 

The girl looked him square in the face. 

"Suppose, " she said, "we all wanted to follow it, suppose we allwanted to be the richest, the most powerful personage in theworld?"

"Well--what then?" he demanded. 

"I think it would postpone the era of the Brotherhood of manindefinitely, don't you?"

"I never thought of it from that point of view, " admitted thebillionaire. "Really, " he added, "you're an extraordinary girl. Why, you can't be more than twenty--or so. "

"I'm twenty-four--or so, " smiled Shirley. 

Ryder's face expanded in a broad smile. He admired this girl'spluck and ready wit. He grew more amiable and tried to gain herconfidence. In a coaxing tone he said:

"Come, where did you get those details? Take me into yourconfidence. "

"I have taken you into my confidence, " laughed Shirley, pointingat her book. "It cost you $1. 50!" Turning over the papers he hadput before her she said presently: "I don't know about this. "

"You don't think my life would make good reading?" he asked withsome asperity. 

"It might, " she replied slowly, as if unwilling to commit herselfas to its commercial or literary value. Then she said frankly: "Totell you the honest truth, I don't consider mere genius inmoney-making is sufficient provocation for rushing into print. Yousee, unless you come to a bad end, it would have no moral. "

Ignoring the not very flattering insinuation contained in thislast speech, the plutocrat continued to urge her:

"You can name your own price if you will do the work, " he said. "Two, three or even five thousand dollars. It's only a few months'work. "

"Five thousand dollars?" echoed Shirley. "That's a lot of money. "Smiling, she added: "It appeals to my commercial sense. But I'mafraid the subject does not arouse my enthusiasm from an artisticstandpoint. "

Ryder seemed amused at the idea of any one hesitating to make fivethousand dollars. He knew that writers do not run across suchopportunities every day. 

"Upon my word, " he said, "I don't know why I'm so anxious to getyou to do the work. I suppose it's because you don't want to. Youremind me of my son. Ah, he's a problem!"

Shirley started involuntarily when Ryder mentioned his son. But hedid not notice it. 

"Why, is he wild?" she asked, as if only mildly interested. 

"Oh, no, I wish he were, " said Ryder. 

"Fallen in love with the wrong woman, I suppose, " she said. 

"Something of the sort--how did you guess?" asked Ryder surprised. 

Shirley coughed to hide her embarrassment and repliedindifferently. 

"So many boys do that. Besides, " she added with a mischievoustwinkle in her eyes, "I can hardly imagine that any woman would bethe right one unless you selected her yourself!"

Ryder made no answer. He folded his arms and gazed at her. Who wasthis woman who knew him so well, who could read his inmostthoughts, who never made a mistake? After a silence he said:

"Do you know you say the strangest things?"

"Truth is strange, " replied Shirley carelessly. "I don't supposeyou hear it very often. "

"Not in that form, " admitted Ryder. 

Shirley had taken on to her lap some of the letters he had passedher, and was perusing them one after another. 

"All these letters from Washington consulting you on politics andfinance--they won't interest the world. "

"My secretary picked them out, " explained Ryder. "Your artisticsense will tell you what to use. "

"Does your son still love this girl? I mean the one you objectto?" inquired Shirley as she went on sorting the papers. 

"Oh, no, he does not care for her any more, " answered Ryderhastily. 

"Yes, he does; he still loves her, " said Shirley positively. 

"How do _you_ know?" asked Ryder amazed. 

"From the way you say he doesn't, " retorted Shirley. 

Ryder gave his caller a look in which admiration was mingled withastonishment. 

"You are right again, " he said. "The idiot does love the girl. "

"Bless his heart, " said Shirley to herself. Aloud she said:

"I hope they'll both outwit you. "

Ryder laughed in spite of himself. This young woman certainlyinterested him more than any other he had ever known. 

"I don't think I ever met anyone in my life quite like you, " hesaid. 

"What's the objection to the girl?" demanded Shirley. 

"Every objection. I don't want her in my family. "

"Anything against her character?"

To better conceal the keen interest she took in the personal turnthe conversation had taken, Shirley pretended to be more busy thanever with the papers. 

"Yes--that is no--not that I know of, " replied Ryder. "But becausea woman has a good character, that doesn't necessarily make her adesirable match, does it?"

"It's a point in her favor, isn't it?"

"Yes--but--" He hesitated as if uncertain what to say. 

"You know men well, don't you, Mr. Ryder?"

"I've met enough to know them pretty well, " he replied. 

"Why don't you study women for a change?" she asked. "That wouldenable you to understand a great many things that I don't thinkare quite clear to you now. "

Ryder laughed good humouredly. It was decidedly a novel sensationto have someone lecturing him. 

"I'm studying you, " he said, "but I don't seem to make muchheadway. A woman like you whose mind isn't spoiled by theamusement habit has great possibilities--great possibilities. Doyou know you're the first woman I ever took into my confidence--Imean at sight?" Again he fixed her with that keen glance which inhis business life had taught him how to read men. He continued:"I'm acting on sentiment--something I rarely do, but I can't helpit. I like you, upon my soul I do, and I'm going to introduce youto my wife--my son--"

He took the telephone from his desk as if he were going to use it. 

"What a commander-in-chief you would have made--how natural it isfor you to command, " exclaimed Shirley in a burst of admirationthat was half real, half mocking. "I suppose you always tellpeople what they are to do and how they are to do it. You are aborn general. You know I've often thought that Napoleon and Caesarand Alexander must have been great domestic leaders as well asimperial rulers. I'm sure of it now. "

Ryder listened to her in amazement. He was not quite sure if shewere making fun of him or not. 

"Well, of all--" he began. Then interrupting himself he saidamiably: "Won't you do me the honour to meet my family?"

Shirley smiled sweetly and bowed. 

"Thank you, Mr. Ryder, I will. "

She rose from her seat and leaned over the manuscripts to concealthe satisfaction this promise of an introduction to the familycircle gave her. She was quick to see that it meant more visits tothe house, and other and perhaps better opportunities to find theobjects of her search. Ryder lifted the receiver of his telephoneand talked to his secretary in another room, while Shirley, whowas still standing, continued examining the papers and letters. 

"Is that you, Bagley? What's that? General Dodge? Get rid of him. I can't see him to-day. Tell him to come to-morrow. What's that?My son wants to see me? Tell him to come to the phone. "

At that instant Shirley gave a little cry, which in vain she triedto suppress. Ryder looked up. 

"What's the matter?" he demanded startled. 

"Nothing--nothing!" she replied in a hoarse whisper. "I prickedmyself with a pin. Don't mind me. "

She had just come across her father's missing letters, which hadgot mixed up, evidently without Ryder's knowledge, in the mass ofpapers he had handed her. Prepared as she was to find the letterssomewhere in the house, she never dreamed that fate would put themso easily and so quickly into her hands; the suddenness of theirappearance and the sight of her father's familiar signatureaffected her almost like a shock. Now she had them, she must notlet them go again; yet how could she keep them unobserved? Couldshe conceal them? Would he miss them? She tried to slip them inher bosom while Ryder was busy at the 'phone, but he suddenlyglanced in her direction and caught her eye. She still held theletters in her hand, which shook from nervousness, but he noticednothing and went on speaking through the 'phone:

"Hallo, Jefferson, boy! You want to see me. Can you wait till I'mthrough? I've got a lady here. Going away? Nonsense! Determined, eh? Well, I can't keep you here if you've made up your mind. Youwant to say good-bye. Come up in about five minutes and I'llintroduce you to a very interesting person, "

He laughed and hung up the receiver. Shirley was all unstrung, trying to overcome the emotion which her discovery had caused her, and in a strangely altered voice, the result of the nervous strainshe was under, she said:

"You want me to come here?"

She looked up from the letters she was reading across to Ryder, who was standing watching her on the other side of the desk. Hecaught her glance and, leaning over to take some manuscript, hesaid:

"Yes, I don't want these papers to get--"

His eye suddenly rested on the letters she was holding. He stoppedshort, and reaching forward he tried to snatch them from her. 

"What have you got there?" he exclaimed. 

He took the letters and she made no resistance. It would be follyto force the issue now, she thought. Another opportunity wouldpresent itself. Ryder locked the letters up very carefully in thedrawer on the left-hand side of his desk, muttering to himselfrather than speaking to Shirley:

"How on earth did they get among my other papers?"

"From Judge Rossmore, were they not?" said Shirley boldly. 

"How did you know it was Judge Rossmore?" demanded Rydersuspiciously. "I didn't know that his name had been mentioned. "

"I saw his signature, " she said simply. Then she added: "He's thefather of the girl you don't like, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's the--"

A cloud came over the financier's face; his eyes darkened, hisjaws snapped and he clenched his fist. 

"How you must hate him!" said Shirley, who observed the change. 

"Not at all, " replied Ryder recovering his self-possession andsuavity of manner. "I disagree with his politics and his methods, but--I know very little about him except that he is about to beremoved from office. "

"About to be?" echoed Shirley. "So his fate is decided even beforehe is tried?" The girl laughed bitterly. "Yes, " she went on, "someof the newspapers are beginning to think he is innocent of thethings of which he is accused. "

"Do they?" said Ryder indifferently. 

"Yes, " she persisted, "most people are on his side. "

She planted her elbows on the desk in front of her, and lookinghim squarely in the face, she asked him point blank:

"Whose side are you on--really and truly?"

Ryder winced. What right had this woman, a stranger both to JudgeRossmore and himself, to come here and catechise him? Herestrained his impatience with difficulty as he replied:

"Whose side am I on? Oh, I don't know that I am on any side. Idon't know that I give it much thought. I--"

"Do you think this man deserves to be punished?" she demanded. 

She had resumed her seat at the desk and partly regained herself-possession. 

"Why do you ask? What is your interest in this matter?"

"I don't know, " she replied evasively; "his case interests me, that's all. Its rather romantic. Your son loves this man'sdaughter. He is in disgrace--many seem to think unjustly. " Hervoice trembled with emotion as she continued: "I have heard fromone source or another--you know I am acquainted with a number ofnewspaper men--I have heard that life no longer has any interestfor him, that he is not only disgraced but beggared, that he ispining away slowly, dying of a broken heart, that his wife anddaughter are in despair. Tell me, do you think he deserves such afate?"

Ryder remained thoughtful a moment, and then he replied:

"No, I do not--no--"

Thinking that she had touched his sympathies, Shirley followed upher advantage:

"Oh, then, why not come to his rescue--you, who are so rich, sopowerful; you, who can move the scales of justice at yourwill--save this man from humiliation and disgrace!"

Ryder shrugged his shoulders, and his face expressed weariness, asif the subject had begun to bore him. 

"My dear girl, you don't understand. His removal is necessary. "

Shirley's face became set and hard. There was a contemptuous ringto her words as she retorted:

"Yet you admit that he may be innocent!"

"Even if I knew it as a fact, I couldn't move. "

"Do you mean to say that if you had positive proof?" She pointedto the drawer in the desk where he had placed the letters. "If youhad absolute proof in that drawer, for instance? Wouldn't you helphim then?"

Ryder's face grew cold and inscrutable; he now wore his fightingmask. 

"Not even if I had the absolute proof in that drawer?" he snappedviciously. 

"Have you absolute proof in that drawer?" she demanded. 

"I repeat that even if I had, I could not expose the men who havebeen my friends. Its _noblesse oblige_ in politics as well as insociety, you know. "

He smiled again at her, as if he had recovered his good humourafter their sharp passage at arms. 

"Oh, it's politics--that's what the papers said. And you believehim innocent. Well, you must have some grounds for your belief. "

"Not necessarily--"

"You said that even if you had the proofs, you could not producethem without sacrificing your friends, showing that your friendsare interested in having this man put off the bench--" She stoppedand burst into hysterical laughter. "Oh, I think you're having ajoke at my expense, " she went on, "just to see how far you canlead me. I daresay Judge Rossmore deserves all he gets. Oh, yes--I'm sure he deserves it. " She rose and walked to the otherside of the room to conceal her emotion. 

Ryder watched her curiously. 

"My dear young lady, how you take this matter to heart!"

"Please forgive me, " laughed Shirley, and averting her face toconceal the fact that her eyes were filled with tears. "It's myartistic temperament, I suppose. It's always getting me intotrouble. It appealed so strongly to my sympathies--this story ofhopeless love between two young people--with the father of thegirl hounded by corrupt politicians and unscrupulous financiers. It was too much for me. Ah! ah! I forgot where I was!"

She leaned against a chair, sick and faint from nervousness, herwhole body trembling. At that moment there was a knock at thelibrary door and Jefferson Ryder appeared. Not seeing Shirley, whose back was towards him, he advanced to greet his father. 

"You told me to come up in five minutes, " he said. "I just wantedto say--"

"Miss Green, " said Ryder, Sr. , addressing Shirley and ignoringwhatever it was that the young man wanted to say, "this is my sonJefferson. Jeff--this is Miss Green. "

Jefferson looked in the direction indicated and stood as if rootedto the floor. He was so surprised that he was struck dumb. Finally, recovering himself, he exclaimed:

"Shirley!"

"Yes, Shirley Green, the author, " explained Ryder, Sr. , notnoticing the note of familiar recognition in his exclamation. 

Shirley advanced, and holding out her hand to Jefferson, saiddemurely:

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Ryder. " Then quickly, in anundertone, she added: "Be careful; don't betray me!"

Jefferson was so astounded that he did not see the outstretchedhand. All he could do was to stand and stare first at her and thenat his father. 

"Why don't you shake hands with her?" said Ryder, Sr. "She won'tbite you. " Then he added: "Miss Green is going to do some literarywork for me, so we shall see a great deal of her. It's too badyou're going away!" He chuckled at his own pleasantry. 

"Father!" blurted out Jefferson, "I came to say that I've changedmy mind. You did not want me to go, and I feel I ought to dosomething to please you. "

"Good boy, " said Ryder pleased. "Now you're talking common sense, "He turned to Shirley, who was getting ready to make her departure:"Well, Miss Green, we may consider the matter settled. Youundertake the work at the price I named and finish it as soon asyou can. Of course, you will have to consult me a good deal as yougo along, so I think it would be better for you to come and stayhere while the work is progressing. Mrs. Ryder can give you asuite of rooms to yourself, where you will be undisturbed and youwill have all your material close at hand. What do you say?"

Shirley was silent for a moment. She looked first at Ryder andthen at his son, and from them her glance went to the littledrawer on the left-hand side of the desk. Then she said quietly:

"As you think best, Mr. Ryder. I am quite willing to do the workhere. "

Ryder, Sr. , escorted her to the top of the landing and watched heras she passed down the grand staircase, ushered by the gorgeouslyuniformed flunkies, to the front door and the street. 

CHAPTER XIII

Shirley entered upon her new duties in the Ryder household twodays later. She had returned to her rooms the evening of hermeeting with the financier in a state bordering upon hysteria. Theday's events had been so extraordinary that it seemed to her theycould not be real, and that she must be in a dream. The car rideto Seventy-fourth Street, the interview in the library, thediscovery of her father's letters, the offer to write thebiography, and, what to her was still more important, theinvitation to go and live in the Ryder home--all these incidentswere so remarkable and unusual that it was only with difficultythat the girl persuaded herself that they were not figments of adisordered brain. 

But it was all true enough. The next morning's mail brought aletter from Mrs. Ryder, who wrote to the effect that Mr. Ryderwould like the work to begin at once, and adding that a suite ofrooms would be ready for her the following afternoon. Shirley didnot hesitate. Everything was to be gained by making the Ryderresidence her headquarters, her father's very life depended uponthe successful outcome of her present mission, and this unhopedfor opportunity practically ensured success. She immediately wroteto Massapequa. One letter was to her mother, saying that she wasextending her visit beyond the time originally planned. The otherletter was to Stott. She told him all about the interview withRyder, informed him of the discovery of the letters, and afterexplaining the nature of the work offered to her, said that heraddress for the next few weeks would be in care of John BurkettRyder. All was going better than she had dared to hope. Everythingseemed to favour their plan. Her first step, of course, while inthe Ryder home, would be to secure possession of her father'sletters, and these she would dispatch at once to Massapequa, sothey could be laid before the Senate without delay. 

So, after settling accounts with her landlady and packing up her fewbelongings, Shirley lost no time in transferring herself to the moreluxurious quarters provided for her in the ten-million-dollar mansionuptown. 

At the Ryder house she was received cordially and with every markof consideration. The housekeeper came down to the main hall togreet her when she arrived and escorted her to the suite of rooms, comprising a small working library, a bedroom simply but daintilyfurnished in pink and white and a private bathroom, which had beenspecially prepared for her convenience and comfort, and herepresently she was joined by Mrs. Ryder. 

"Dear me, " exclaimed the financier's wife, staring curiously atShirley, "what a young girl you are to have made such a stir witha book! How did you do it? I'm sure I couldn't. It's as much as Ican do to write a letter, and half the time that's not legible. "

"Oh, it wasn't so hard, " laughed Shirley. "It was the subject thatappealed rather than any special skill of mine. The trusts andtheir misdeeds are the favourite topics of the hour. The wholecountry is talking about nothing else. My book came at the righttime, that's all. "

Although "The American Octopus" was a direct attack on her ownhusband, Mrs. Ryder secretly admired this young woman, who haddared to speak a few blunt truths. It was a courage which, alas!she had always lacked herself, but there was a certain satisfactionin knowing there were women in the world not entirely cowed by thetyrant Man. 

"I have always wanted a daughter, " went on Mrs. Ryder, becomingconfidential, while Shirley removed her things and made herself athome; "girls of your age are so companionable. " Then, abruptly, she asked: "Do your parents live in New York?"

Shirley's face flushed and she stooped over her trunk to hide herembarrassment. 

"No--not at present, " she answered evasively. "My mother andfather are in the country. "

She was afraid that more questions of a personal nature wouldfollow, but apparently Mrs. Ryder was not in an inquisitive mood, for she asked nothing further. She only said:

"I have a son, but I don't see much of him. You must meet myJefferson. He is such a nice boy. "

Shirley tried to look unconcerned as she replied:

"I met him yesterday. Mr. Ryder introduced him to me. "

"Poor lad, he has his troubles too, " went on Mrs. Ryder. "He's inlove with a girl, but his father wants him to marry someone else. They're quarrelling over it all the time. "

"Parents shouldn't interfere in matters of the heart, " saidShirley decisively. "What is more serious than the choosing of alife companion, and who are better entitled to make a freeselection than they who are going to spend the rest of their daystogether? Of course, it is a father's duty to give his son thebenefit of his riper experience, but to insist on a marriage basedonly on business interests is little less than a crime. There areconsiderations more important if the union is to be a happy or alasting one. The chief thing is that the man should feel realattachment for the woman he marries. Two people who are to livetogether as man and wife must be compatible in tastes and temper. You cannot mix oil and water. It is these selfish marriages whichkeep our divorce courts busy. Money alone won't buy happiness inmarriage. "

"No, " sighed Mrs. Ryder, "no one knows that better than I. "

The financier's wife was already most favourably impressed withher guest, and she chatted on as if she had known Shirley foryears. It was rarely that she had heard so young a woman expresssuch common-sense views, and the more she talked with her the lesssurprised she was that she was the author of a much-discussedbook. Finally, thinking that Shirley might prefer to be alone, sherose to go, bidding her make herself thoroughly at home and toring for anything she might wish. A maid had been assigned to lookexclusively after her wants, and she could have her meals servedin her room or else have them with the family as she liked. ButShirley, not caring to encounter Mr. Ryder's cold, searching staremore often than necessary, said she would prefer to take her mealsalone. 

Left to herself, Shirley settled down to work in earnest. Mr. Ryder had sent to her room all the material for the biography, andsoon she was completely absorbed in the task of sorting andarranging letters, making extracts from records, compiling data, etc. , laying the foundations for the important book she was towrite. She wondered what they would call it, and she smiled as apeculiarly appropriate title flashed through her mind--"TheHistory of a Crime. " Yet she thought they could hardly infringe onVictor Hugo; perhaps the best title was the simplest "The Historyof the Empire Trading Company. " Everyone would understand that ittold the story of John Burkett Ryder's remarkable career from hisearliest beginnings to the present time. She worked feverishly allthat evening getting the material into shape, and the followingday found her early at her desk. No one disturbed her and shewrote steadily on until noon, Mrs. Ryder only once putting herhead in the door to wish her good morning. 

After luncheon, Shirley decided that the weather was too gloriousto remain indoors. Her health must not be jeopardized even toadvance the interests of the Colossus, so she put on her hat andleft the house to go for a walk. The air smelled sweet to herafter being confined so long indoor, and she walked with a moreelastic and buoyant step than she had since her return home. Turning down Fifth Avenue, she entered the park at Seventy-secondStreet, following the pathway until she came to the bend in thedriveway opposite the Casino. The park was almost deserted at thathour, and there was a delightful sense of solitude and a sweetscent of new-mown hay from the freshly cut lawns. She found anempty bench, well shaded by an overspreading tree, and she satdown, grateful for the rest and quiet. 

She wondered what Jefferson thought of her action in coming to hisfather's house practically in disguise and under an assumed name. She must see him at once, for in him lay her hope of obtainingpossession of the letters. Certainly she felt no delicacy orcompunction in asking Jefferson to do her this service. Theletters belonged to her father and they were being wrongfullywithheld with the deliberate purpose of doing him an injury. Shehad a moral if not a legal right to recover the letters in any waythat she could. 

She was so deeply engrossed in her thoughts that she had notnoticed a hansom cab which suddenly drew up with a jerk at thecurb opposite her bench. A man jumped out. It was Jefferson. 

"Hello, Shirley, " he cried gaily; "who would have expected to findyou rusticating on a bench here? I pictured you grinding away athome doing literary stunts for the governor. " He grinned and thenadded: "Come for a drive. I want to talk to you. "

Shirley demurred. No, she could not spare the time. Yet, shethought to herself, why was not this a good opportunity to explainto Jefferson how he came to find her in his father's librarymasquerading under another name, and also to ask him to secure theletters for her? While she pondered Jefferson insisted, and a fewminutes later she found herself sitting beside him in the cab. They started off at a brisk pace, Shirley sitting with her headback, enjoying the strong breeze caused by the rapid motion. 

"Now tell me, " he said, "what does it all mean? I was so startledat seeing you in the library the other day that I almost betrayedyou. How did you come to call on father?"

Briefly Shirley explained everything. She told him how Mr. Ryderhad written to her asking her to call and see him, and how she hadeagerly seized at this last straw in the hope of helping herfather. She told him about the letters, explaining how necessarythey were for her father's defence and how she had discoveredthem. Mr. Ryder, she said, had seemed to take a fancy to her andhad asked her to remain in the house as his guest while she wascompiling his biography, and she had accepted the offer, not somuch for the amount of money involved as for the splendidopportunity it afforded her to gain possession of the letters. 

"So that is the mysterious work you spoke of--to get thoseletters?" said Jefferson. 

"Yes, that is my mission. It was a secret. I couldn't tell you; Icouldn't tell anyone. Only Judge Stott knows. He is aware I havefound them and is hourly expecting to receive them from me. Andnow, " she said, "I want your help. "

His only answer was to grasp tighter the hand she had laid in his. She knew that she would not have to explain the nature of theservice she wanted. He understood. 

"Where are the letters?" he demanded. 

"In the left-hand drawer of your father's desk, " she answered. 

He was silent for a few moments, and then he said simply:

"I will get them. "

The cab by this time had got as far as Claremont, and from thehill summit they had a splendid view of the broad sweep of themajestic Hudson and the towering walls of the blue palisades. Theday was so beautiful and the air so invigorating that Jeffersonsuggested a ramble along the banks of the river. They could leavethe cab at Claremont and drive back to the city later. Shirley wastoo grateful to him for his promise of coöperation to make anyfurther opposition, and soon they were far away from beatenhighways, down on the banks of the historic stream, pickingflowers and laughing merrily like two truant children bent on aself-made holiday. The place they had reached was just outside thenorthern boundaries of Harlem, a sylvan spot still unspoiled bythe rude invasion of the flat-house builder. The land, thicklywooded, sloped down sharply to the water, and the perfect quietwas broken only by the washing of the tiny surf against the riverbank and the shrill notes of the birds in the trees. 

Although it was late in October the day was warm, and Shirley soontired of climbing over bramble-entangled verdure. The rich grassunderfoot looked cool and inviting, and the natural slope of theground affording an ideal resting-place, she sat there, withJefferson stretched out at her feet, both watching idly thedancing waters of the broad Hudson, spangled with gleams of light, as they swept swiftly by on their journey to the sea. 

"Shirley, " said Jefferson suddenly, "I suppose you saw thatridiculous story about my alleged engagement to Miss Roberts. Ihope you understood that it was done without my consent. "

"If I did not guess it, Jeff, " she answered, "your assurance wouldbe sufficient. Besides, " she added, "what right have I to object?"

"But I want you to have the right, " he replied earnestly. "I'mgoing to stop this Roberts nonsense in a way my father hardlyanticipates. I'm just waiting a chance to talk to him. I'll showhim the absurdity of announcing me engaged to a girl who is aboutto elope with his private secretary!"

"Elope with the secretary?" exclaimed Shirley. 

Jefferson told her all about the letter he had found on thestaircase, and the Hon. Fitzroy Bagley's plans for a runawaymarriage with the senator's wealthy daughter. 

"It's a godsend to me, " he said gleefully. "Their plan is to getmarried next Wednesday. I'll see my father on Tuesday; I'll putthe evidence in his hands, and I don't think, " he added grimly, "he'll bother me any more about Miss Roberts. "

"So you're not going away now?" said Shirley, smiling down at him. 

He sat up and leaned over towards her. 

"I can't, Shirley, I simply can't, " he replied, his voicetrembling. "You are more to me than I dreamed a woman could everbe. I realize it more forcibly every day. There is no use fightingagainst it. Without you, my work, my life means nothing. "

Shirley shook her head and averted her eyes. 

"Don't let us speak of that, Jeff, " she pleaded gently. "I toldyou I did not belong to myself while my father was in peril. "

"But I must speak of it, " he interrupted. "Shirley, you doyourself an injustice as well as me. You are not indifferent tome--I feel that. Then why raise this barrier between us?"

A soft light stole into the girl's eyes. Ah, it was good to feelthere was someone to whom she was everything in the world!

"Don't ask me to betray my trust, Jeff, " she faltered. "You know Iam not indifferent to you--far from it. But I--"

He came closer until his face nearly touched hers. 

"I love you--I want you, " he murmured feverishly. "Give me theright to claim you before all the world as my future wife!"

Every note of his rich, manly voice, vibrating with impetuouspassion, sounded in Shirley's ear like a soft caress. She closedher eyes. A strange feeling of languor was stealing over her, amysterious thrill passed through her whole body. The eternal, inevitable sex instinct was disturbing, for the first time, awoman whose life had been singularly free from such influences, putting to flight all the calculations and resolves her coolerjudgment had made. The sensuous charm of the place--the distantsplash of the water, the singing of the birds, the fragrance ofthe trees and grass--all these symbols of the joy of lifeconspired to arouse the love-hunger of the woman. Why, after all, should she not know happiness like other women? She had a sacredduty to perform, it was true; but would it be less well donebecause she declined to stifle the natural leanings of herwomanhood? Both her soul and her body called out: "Let this manlove you, give yourself to him, he is worthy of your love. "

Half unconsciously, she listened to his ardent wooing, her eyesshut, as he spoke quickly, passionately, his breath warm upon hercheek:

"Shirley, I offer you all the devotion a man can give a woman. Saythe one word that will make me the happiest or the most wretchedof men. Yes or no! Only think well before you wreck my life. Ilove you--I love you! I will wait for you if need be until thecrack of doom. Say--say you will be my wife!"

She opened her eyes. His face was bent close over hers. Their lipsalmost touched. 

"Yes, Jefferson, " she murmured, "I do love you!"

His lips met hers in a long, passionate kiss. Her eyes closed andan ecstatic thrill seemed to convulse her entire being. The birdsin the trees overhead sang in more joyful chorus in celebration ofthe betrothal. 

CHAPTER XIV

It was nearly seven o'clock when Shirley got back toSeventy-fourth Street. No one saw her come in, and she went directto her room, and after a hasty dinner, worked until late into thenight on her book to make up for lost time. The events of theafternoon caused her considerable uneasiness. She reproachedherself for her weakness and for having yielded so readily to theimpulse of the moment. She had said only what was the truth whenshe admitted she loved Jefferson, but what right had she todispose of her future while her father's fate was still uncertain?Her conscience troubled her, and when she came to reason it outcalmly, the more impossible seemed their union from every point ofview. How could she become the daughter-in-law of the man who hadruined her own father? The idea was preposterous, and hard as thesacrifice would be, Jefferson must be made to see it in thatlight. Their engagement was the greatest folly; it bound each ofthem when nothing but unhappiness could possibly come of it. Shewas sure now that she loved Jefferson. It would be hard to givehim up, but there are times and circumstances when duty andprinciple must prevail over all other considerations, and this shefelt was one of them. 

The following morning she received a letter from Stott. He wasdelighted to hear the good news regarding her important discovery, and he urged her to lose no time in securing the letters andforwarding them to Massapequa, when he would immediately go toWashington and lay them before the Senate. Documentary evidence ofthat conclusive nature, he went on to say, would prove of the veryhighest value in clearing her father's name. He added that thejudge and her mother were as well as circumstances would permit, and that they were not in the least worried about her protractedabsence. Her Aunt Milly had already returned to Europe, andEudoxia was still threatening to leave daily. 

Shirley needed no urging. She quite realized the importance ofacting quickly, but it was not easy to get at the letters. Thelibrary was usually kept locked when the great man was away, andon the few occasions when access to it was possible, the lynx-eyedMr. Bagley was always on guard. Short as had been her stay in theRyder household, Shirley already shared Jefferson's antipathy tothe English secretary, whose manner grew more supercilious andoverbearing as he drew nearer the date when he expected to run offwith one of the richest catches of the season. He had not soughtthe acquaintance of his employer's biographer since her arrival, and, with the exception of a rude stare, had not deigned to noticeher, which attitude of haughty indifference was all the moreremarkable in view of the fact that the Hon. Fitzroy usually leftnothing unturned to cultivate a flirtatious intimacy with everyattractive female he met. The truth was that what with Mr. Ryder'sdemands upon his services and his own preparations for his comingmatrimonial venture, in which he had so much at stake, he hadneither time nor inclination to indulge his customary amorousdiversions. 

Miss Roberts had called at the house several times, ostensibly to seeMrs. Ryder, and when introduced to Shirley she had condescended togive the latter a supercilious nod. Her conversation was generallyof the silly, vacuous sort, concerning chiefly new dresses or bonnets, and Shirley at once read her character--frivolous, amusement-loving, empty-headed, irresponsible--just the kind of girl to do somethingfoolish without weighing the consequences. After chatting a fewmoments with Mrs. Ryder she would usually vanish, and one day, after one of these mysterious disappearances, Shirley happened topass the library and caught sight of her and Mr. Bagley conversingin subdued and eager tones. It was very evident that the elopementscheme was fast maturing. If the scandal was to be prevented, Jefferson ought to see his father and acquaint him with the factswithout delay. It was probable that at the same time he would makean effort to secure the letters. Meantime she must be patient. Too much hurry might spoil everything. 

So the days passed, Shirley devoting almost all her time to thehistory she had undertaken. She saw nothing of Ryder, Sr. , but agood deal of his wife, to whom she soon became much attached. Shefound her an amiable, good-natured woman, entirely free from thatoffensive arrogance and patronizing condescension which usuallymarks the parvenue as distinct from the thoroughbred. Mrs. Ryderhad no claims to distinguished lineage; on the contrary, she wasthe daughter of a country grocer when the then rising oil manmarried her, and of educational advantages she had had little ornone. It was purely by accident that she was the wife of therichest man in the world, and while she enjoyed the prestige herhusband's prominence gave her, she never allowed it to turn herhead. She gave away large sums for charitable purposes and, strange to say, when the gift came direct from her, the money wasnever returned on the plea that it was "tainted. " She shared herhusband's dislike for entertaining, and led practically the lifeof a recluse. The advent of Shirley, therefore, into her quiet anduneventful existence was as welcome as sunshine when it breaksthrough the clouds after days of gloom. Quite a friendship sprangup between the two women, and when tired of writing, Shirley wouldgo into Mrs. Ryder's room and chat until the financier's wifebegan to look forward to these little impromptu visits, so muchshe enjoyed them. 

Nothing more had been said concerning Jefferson and Miss Roberts. The young man had not yet seen his father, but his mother knew hewas only waiting an opportunity to demand an explanation of theengagement announcements. Her husband, on the other hand, desiredthe match more than ever, owing to the continued importunities ofSenator Roberts. As usual, Mrs. Ryder confided these littledomestic troubles to Shirley. 

"Jefferson, " she said, "is very angry. He is determined not tomarry the girl, and when he and his father do meet there'll beanother scene. "

"What objection has your son to Miss Roberts?" inquired Shirleyinnocently. 

"Oh, the usual reason, " sighed the mother, "and I've no doubt heknows best. He's in love with another girl--a Miss Rossmore. "

"Oh, yes, " answered Shirley simply. "Mr. Ryder spoke of her. "

Mrs. Ryder was silent, and presently she left the girl alone withher work. 

The next afternoon Shirley was in her room busy writing when therecame a tap at her door. Thinking it was another visit from Mrs. Ryder, she did not look up, but cried out pleasantly:

"Come in. "

John Ryder entered. He smiled cordially and, as if apologizing forthe intrusion, said amiably:

"I thought I'd run up to see how you were getting along. "

His coming was so unexpected that for a moment Shirley wasstartled, but she quickly regained her composure and asked him totake a seat. He seemed pleased to find her making such goodprogress, and he stopped to answer a number of questions she putto him. Shirley tried to be cordial, but when she looked well athim and noted the keen, hawk-like eyes, the cruel, vindictivelines about the mouth, the square-set, relentless jaw--Wall Streethad gone wrong with the Colossus that day and he was still wearinghis war paint--she recalled the wrong this man had done her fatherand she felt how bitterly she hated him. The more her mind dweltupon it, the more exasperated she was to think she should bethere, a guest, under his roof, and it was only with the greatestdifficulty that she remained civil. 

"What is the moral of your life?" she demanded bluntly. 

He was quick to note the contemptuous tone in her voice, and hegave her a keen, searching look as if he were trying to read herthoughts and fathom the reason for her very evident hostilitytowards him. 

"What do you mean?" he asked. 

"I mean, What can you show as your life work? Most men whose livesare big enough to call for biographies have done somethinguseful--they have been famous statesmen, eminent scientists, celebrated authors, great inventors. What have you done?"

The question appeared to stagger him. The audacity of any oneputting such a question to a man in his own house was incredible. He squared his jaws and his clenched fist descended heavily on thetable. 

"What have I done?" he cried. "I have built up the greatestfortune ever accumulated by one man. My fabulous wealth has causedmy name to spread to the four corners of the earth. Is that not anachievement to relate to future generations?"

Shirley gave a little shrug of her shoulders. 

"Future generations will take no interest in you or yourmillions, " she said calmly. "Our civilization will have made suchprogress by that time that people will merely wonder why we, inour day, tolerated men of your class so long. Now it is different. The world is money-mad. You are a person of importance in the eyesof the unthinking multitude, but it only envies you your fortune;it does not admire you personally. When you die people will countyour millions, not your good deeds. "

He laughed cynically and drew up a chair near her desk. As ageneral thing, John Ryder never wasted words on women. He had buta poor opinion of their mentality, and considered it beneath thedignity of any man to enter into serious argument with a woman. Infact, it was seldom he condescended to argue with anyone. He gaveorders and talked to people; he had no patience to be talked to. Yet he found himself listening with interest to this young womanwho expressed herself so frankly. It was a decided novelty for himto hear the truth. 

 [Photo, from the play, of Mr. Ryder discussing his son with Miss Green. ]

 "Marry Jefferson yourself. "--Act III. 

"What do I care what the world says when I'm dead?" he asked witha forced laugh. 

"You do care, " replied Shirley gravely. "You may school yourselfto believe that you are indifferent to the good opinion of yourfellow man, but right down in your heart you do care--every mandoes, whether he be multi-millionaire or a sneak thief. "

"You class the two together, I notice, " he said bitterly. 

"It is often a distinction without a difference, " she rejoinedpromptly. 

He remained silent for a moment or two toying nervously with apaper knife. Then, arrogantly, and as if anxious to impress herwith his importance, he said:

"Most men would be satisfied if they had accomplished what I have. Do you realize that my wealth is so vast that I scarcely knowmyself what I am worth? What my fortune will be in another fiftyyears staggers the imagination. Yet I started with nothing. I madeit all myself. Surely I should get credit for that. "

"_How_ did you make it?" retorted Shirley. 

"In America we don't ask how a man makes his money; we ask if hehas got any. "

"You are mistaken, " replied Shirley earnestly. "America is wakingup. The conscience of the nation is being aroused. We are comingto realize that the scandals of the last few years were only thefruit of public indifference to sharp business practice. Thepeople will soon ask the dishonest rich man where he got it, andthere will have to be an accounting. What account will you be ableto give?"

He bit his lip and looked at her for a moment without replying. Then, with a faint suspicion of a sneer, he said:

"You are a socialist--perhaps an anarchist!"

"Only the ignorant commit the blunder of confounding the two, " sheretorted. "Anarchy is a disease; socialism is a science. "

"Indeed!" he exclaimed mockingly, "I thought the terms weresynonymous. The world regards them both as insane. "

Herself an enthusiastic convert to the new political faith thatwas rising like a flood tide all over the world, the contemptuoustone in which this plutocrat spoke of the coming reorganization ofsociety which was destined to destroy him and his kind spurred heron to renewed argument. 

"I imagine, " she said sarcastically, "that you would hardlyapprove any social reform which threatened to interfere with yourown business methods. But no matter how you disapprove ofsocialism on general principles, as a leader of the capitalistclass you should understand what socialism is, and not confuse oneof the most important movements in modern world-history with thecrazy theories of irresponsible cranks. The anarchists are thenatural enemies of the entire human family, and would destroy itwere their dangerous doctrines permitted to prevail; thesocialists, on the contrary, are seeking to save mankind from thedegradation, the crime and the folly into which such men as youhave driven it. "

She spoke impetuously, with the inspired exaltation of a prophetdelivering a message to the people. Ryder listened, concealing hisimpatience with uneasy little coughs. 

"Yes, " she went on, "I am a socialist and I am proud of it. Thewhole world is slowly drifting toward socialism as the only remedyfor the actual intolerable conditions. It may not come in ourtime, but it will come as surely as the sun will rise and settomorrow. Has not the flag of socialism waved recently from theWhite House? Has not a President of the United States declaredthat the State must eventually curb the great fortunes? What isthat but socialism?"

"True, " retorted Ryder grimly, "and that little speech intendedfor the benefit of the gallery will cost him the nomination at thenext Presidential election. We don't want in the White House aPresident who stirs up class hatred. Our rich men have a right towhat is their own; that is guaranteed them by the Constitution. "

"Is it their own?" interrupted Shirley. 

Ryder ignored the insinuation and proceeded:

"What of our boasted free institutions if a man is to berestricted in what he may and may not do? If I am clever enough toaccumulate millions who can stop me?"

"The people will stop you, " said Shirley calmly. "It is only aquestion of time. Their patience is about exhausted. Put your earto the ground and listen to the distant rumbling of the tempestwhich, sooner or later, will be unchained in this land, provokedby the iniquitous practices of organized capital. The people havehad enough of the extortions of the Trusts. One day they will risein their wrath and seize by the throat this knavish plutocracywhich, confident in the power of its wealth to procure legalimmunity and reckless of its danger, persists in robbing thepublic daily. But retribution is at hand. The growing discontentof the proletariat, the ever-increasing strikes and labourdisputes of all kinds, the clamour against the Railroads and theTrusts, the evidence of collusion between both--all this is thewriting on the wall. The capitalistic system is doomed; socialismwill succeed it. "

"What is socialism?" he demanded scornfully. "What will it givethe public that it has not got already?"

Shirley, who never neglected an opportunity to make a convert, no matter how hardened he might be, picked up a little pamphletprinted for propaganda purposes which she had that morningreceived by mail. 

"Here, " she said, "is one of the best and clearest definitions ofsocialism I have ever read:

"Socialism is common ownership of natural resources and publicutilities, and the common operation of all industries for thegeneral good. Socialism is opposed to monopoly, that is, toprivate ownership of land and the instruments of labor, whichis indirect ownership of men; to the wages system, by whichlabor is legally robbed of a large part of the product oflabor; to competition with its enormous waste of effort andits opportunities for the spoliation of the weak by the strong. Socialism is industrial democracy. It is the government of thepeople by the people and for the people, not in the presentrestricted sense, but as regards all the common interests of men. Socialism is opposed to oligarchy and monarchy, and therefore tothe tyrannies of business cliques and money kings. Socialism isfor freedom, not only from the fear of force, but from the fearof want. Socialism proposes real liberty, not merely the rightto vote, but the liberty to live for something more than meatand drink. 

"Socialism is righteousness in the relations of men. It is basedon the fundamentals of religion, the Fatherhood of God and theBrotherhood of men. It seeks through association and equality torealize fraternity. Socialism will destroy the motives which makefor cheap manufacturers, poor workmanship and adulterations; itwill secure the real utility of things. Use, not exchange, willbe the object of labour. Things will be made to serve, not tosell. Socialism will banish war, for private ownership is back ofstrife between men. Socialism will purify politics, for privatecapitalism is the great source of political corruption. Socialismwill make for education, invention and discovery; it willstimulate the moral development of men. Crime will have lost mostof its motive and pauperism will have no excuse. That, " saidShirley, as she concluded, "is socialism!"

Ryder shrugged his shoulders and rose to go. 

"Delightful, " he said ironically, "but in my judgment whollyUtopian and impracticable. It's nothing but a gigantic pipe dream. It won't come in this generation nor in ten generations if, indeed, it is ever taken seriously by a majority big enough to putits theories to the test. Socialism does not take into account twogreat factors that move the world--men's passions and humanambition. If you eliminate ambition you remove the strongestincentive to individual effort. From your own account asocialistic world would be a dreadfully tame place to livein--everybody depressingly good, without any of the feverishturmoil of life as we know it. Such a world would not appeal to meat all. I love the fray--the daily battle of gain and loss, theexcitement of making or losing millions. That is my life!"

"Yet what good is your money to you?" insisted Shirley. "You areable to spend only an infinitesimal part of it. You cannot evengive it away, for nobody will have any of it. "

"Money!" he hissed rather than spoke, "I hate money. It meansnothing to me. I have so much that I have lost all idea of itsvalue. I go on accumulating it for only one purpose. It buyspower. I love power--that is my passion, my ambition, to rule theworld with my gold. Do you know, " he went on and leaning over thedesk in a dramatic attitude, "that if I chose I could start apanic in Wall Street to-morrow that would shake to theirfoundations every financial institution in the country? Do youknow that I practically control the Congress of the United Statesand that no legislative measure becomes law unless it has myapproval?"

"The public has long suspected as much, " replied Shirley. "That iswhy you are looked upon as a menace to the stability and honestyof our political and commercial life. "

An angry answer rose to his lips when the door opened and Mrs. Ryder entered. 

"I've been looking for you, John, " she said peevishly. "Mr. Bagleytold me you were somewhere in the house. Senator Roberts isdownstairs. "

"He's come about Jefferson and his daughter, I suppose, " mutteredRyder. "Well, I'll see him. Where is he?"

"In the library. Kate came with him. She's in my room. "

They left Shirley to her writing, and when he had closed the doorthe financier turned to his wife and said impatiently:

"Now, what are we going to do about Jefferson and Kate? Thesenator insists on the matter of their marriage being settled oneway or another. Where is Jefferson?"

"He came in about half an hour ago. He was upstairs to see me, andI thought he was looking for you, " answered the wife. 

"Well, " replied Ryder determinedly, "he and I have got tounderstand each other. This can't go on. It shan't. "

Mrs. Ryder put her hand on his arm, and said pleadingly:

"Don't be impatient with the boy, John. Remember he is all wehave. He is so unhappy. He wants to please us, but--"

"But he insists on pleasing himself, " said Ryder completing thesentence. 

"I'm afraid, John, that his liking for that Miss Rossmore is moreserious than you realize--"

The financier stamped his foot and replied angrily:

"Miss Rossmore! That name seems to confront me at every turn--foryears the father, now the daughter! I'm sorry, my dear, " he wenton more calmly, "that you seem inclined to listen to Jefferson. Itonly encourages him in his attitude towards me. Kate would makehim an excellent wife, while what do we know about the otherwoman? Are you willing to sacrifice your son's future to a mereboyish whim?"

Mrs. Ryder sighed. 

"It's very hard, " she said, "for a mother to know what to advise. Miss Green says--"

"What!" exclaimed her husband, "you have consulted Miss Green onthe subject?"

"Yes, " answered his wife, "I don't know how I came to tell her, but I did. I seem to tell her everything. I find her such acomfort, John. I haven't had an attack of nerves since that girlhas been in the house. "

"She is certainly a superior woman, " admitted Ryder. "I wish she'dward that Rossmore girl off. I wish she--" He stopped abruptly asif not venturing to give expression to his thoughts, even to hiswife. Then he said: "If she were Kate Roberts she wouldn't letJeff slip through her fingers. "

"I have often wished, " went on Mrs. Ryder, "that Kate were morelike Shirley Green. I don't think we would have any difficultywith Jeff then. "

"Kate is the daughter of Senator Roberts, and if this marriage isbroken off in any way without the senator's consent, he is in aposition to injure my interests materially. If you see Jeffersonsend him to me in the library. I'll go and keep Roberts in goodhumour until he comes. "

He went downstairs and Mrs. Ryder proceeded to her apartments, where she found Jefferson chatting with Kate. She at oncedelivered Ryder Sr. 's message. 

"Jeff, your father wants to see you in the library. "

"Yes, I want to see him, " answered the young man grimly, and aftera few moments more badinage with Kate he left the room. 

It was not a mere coincidence that had brought Senator Roberts andhis daughter and the financier's son all together under the Ryderroof at the same time. It was part of Jefferson's well-preparedplan to expose the rascality of his father's secretary, and at thesame time rid himself of the embarrassing entanglement with KateRoberts. If the senator were confronted publicly with the factthat his daughter, while keeping up the fiction of being engagedto Ryder Jr. , was really preparing to run off with the Hon. Fitzroy Bagley, he would have no alternative but to retiregracefully under fire and relinquish all idea of a marriagealliance with the house of Ryder. The critical moment had arrived. To-morrow, Wednesday, was the day fixed for the elopement. Thesecretary's little game had gone far enough. The time had come foraction. So Jefferson had written to Senator Roberts, who was inWashington, asking him if it would be convenient for him to comeat once to New York and meet himself and his father on a matter ofimportance. The senator naturally jumped to the conclusion thatJefferson and Ryder had reached an amicable understanding, and heimmediately hurried to New York and with his daughter came roundto Seventy-fourth Street. 

When Ryder Sr. Entered the library, Senator Roberts was stridingnervously up and down the room. This, he felt, was an importantday. The ambition of his life seemed on the point of beingattained. 

"Hello, Roberts, " was Ryder's cheerful greeting. "What's broughtyou from Washington at a critical time like this? The Rossmoreimpeachment needs every friend we have. "

"Just as if you didn't know, " smiled the senator uneasily, "that Iam here by appointment to meet you and your son!"

"To meet me and my son?" echoed Ryder astonished. 

The senator, perplexed and beginning to feel real alarm, showedthe financier Jefferson's letter. Ryder read it and he lookedpleased. 

"That's all right, " he said, "if the lad asked you to meet us hereit can mean only one thing--that at last he has made up his mindto this marriage. "

"That's what I thought, " replied the senator, breathing morefreely. "I was sorry to leave Washington at such a time, but I'm afather, and Kate is more to me than the Rossmore impeachment. Besides, to see her married to your son Jefferson is one of thedearest wishes of my life. "

"You can rest easy, " said Ryder; "that is practically settled. Jefferson's sending for you proves that he is now ready to meet mywishes. He'll be here any minute. How is the Rossmore caseprogressing?"

"Not so well as it might, " growled the senator. "There's a lot ofmaudlin sympathy for the judge. He's a pretty sick man by allaccounts, and the newspapers seem to be taking his part. One ortwo of the Western senators are talking Corporate influence andTrust legislation, but when it comes to a vote the matter will besettled on party lines. "

"That means that Judge Rossmore will be removed?" demanded Rydersternly. 

"Yes, with five votes to spare, " answered the senator. 

"That's not enough, " insisted Ryder. "There must be at leasttwenty. Let there be no blunders, Roberts. The man is a menace toall the big commercial interests. This thing must go through. "

The door opened and Jefferson appeared. On seeing the senatortalking with his father, he hesitated on the threshold. 

"Come in, Jeff, " said his father pleasantly. "You expected to seeSenator Roberts, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir. How do you do, Senator?" said the young man, advancinginto the room. 

"I got your letter, my boy, and here I am, " said the senatorsmiling affably. "I suppose we can guess what the business is, eh?"

"That he's going to marry Kate, of course, " chimed in Ryder Sr. "Jeff, my lad, I'm glad you are beginning to see my way of lookingat things. You're doing more to please me lately, and I appreciateit. You stayed at home when I asked you to, and now you've made upyour mind regarding this marriage. "

Jefferson let his father finish his speech, and then he saidcalmly:

"I think there must be some misapprehension as to the reason formy summoning Senator Roberts to New York. It had nothing to dowith my marrying Miss Roberts, but to prevent her marriage withsomeone else. "

"What!" exclaimed Ryder, Sr. 

"Marriage with someone else?" echoed the senator. He thought hehad not heard aright, yet at the same time he had gravemisgivings. "What do you mean, sir?"

Taking from his pocket a copy of the letter he had picked up onthe staircase, Jefferson held it out to the girl's father. 

"Your daughter is preparing to run away with my father'ssecretary. To-morrow would have been too late. That is why Isummoned you. Read this. "

The senator took the letter, and as he read his face grew ashenand his hand trembled violently. At one blow all his ambitiousprojects for his daughter had been swept away. The inconsiderateact of a silly, thoughtless girl had spoiled the carefully laidplans of a lifetime. The only consolation which remained was thatthe calamity might have been still more serious. This timelywarning had saved his family from perhaps an even greater scandal. He passed the letter in silence to Ryder, Sr. 

The financier was a man of few words when the situation called forprompt action. After he had read the letter through, there was anominous silence. Then he rang a bell. The butler appeared. 

"Tell Mr. Bagley I want him. "

The man bowed and disappeared. 

"Who the devil is this Bagley?" demanded the senator. 

"English--blue blood--no money, " was Ryder's laconic answer. 

"That's the only kind we seem to get over here, " growled thesenator. "We furnish the money--they furnish the blood--damn hisblue blood! I don't want any in mine. " Turning to Jefferson, hesaid: "Jefferson, whatever the motives that actuated you, I canonly thank you for this warning. I think it would have broken myheart if my girl had gone away with that scoundrel. Of course, under the circumstances, I must abandon all idea of your becomingmy son-in-law. I release you from all obligations you may havefelt yourself bound by. "

Jefferson bowed and remained silent. 

Ryder, Sr. Eyed his son closely, an amused expression hovering onhis face. After all, it was not so much he who had desired thismatch as Roberts, and as long as the senator was willing towithdraw, he could make no objection. He wondered what part, ifany, his son had played in bringing about this sensationaldenouement to a match which had been so distasteful to him, and itgratified his paternal vanity to think that Jefferson after allmight be smarter than he had given him credit for. 

At this juncture Mr. Bagley entered the room. He was a littletaken aback on seeing the senator, but like most men of his class, his self-conceit made him confident of his ability to handle anyemergency which might arise, and he had no reason to suspect thatthis hasty summons to the library had anything to do with hismatrimonial plans. 

"Did you ask for me, sir?" he demanded, addressing his employer. 

"Yes, Mr. Bagley, " replied Ryder, fixing the secretary with a lookthat filled the latter with misgivings. "What steamers leaveto-morrow for England?"

"To-morrow?" echoed Mr. Bagley. 

"I said to-morrow, " repeated Ryder, slightly raising his voice. 

"Let me see, " stammered the secretary, "there is the White Star, the North German Lloyd, the Atlantic Transport--"

"Have you any preference?" inquired the financier. 

"No, sir, none at all. "

"Then you'll go on board one of the ships to-night, " said Ryder. "Your things will be packed and sent to you before the steamersails to-morrow. "

The Hon. Fitzroy Bagley, third son of a British peer, did notunderstand even yet that he was discharged as one dismisses ahousemaid caught kissing the policeman. He could not think whatMr. Ryder wanted him to go abroad for unless it were on somematter of business, and it was decidedly inconvenient for him tosail at this time. 

"But, sir, " he stammered. "I'm afraid--I'm afraid--"

"Yes, " rejoined Ryder promptly, "I notice that--your hand isshaking. "

"I mean that I--"

"You mean that you have other engagements!" said Ryder sternly. 

"Oh no--no but--"

"No engagement at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning?" insistedRyder. 

"With my daughter?" chimed in the senator. 

Mr. Bagley now understood. He broke out in a cold perspiration andhe paled visibly. In the hope that the full extent of his planswere not known, he attempted to brazen it out. 

"No, certainly not, under no circumstances, " he said. 

Ryder, Sr. Rang a bell. 

"Perhaps she has an engagement with you. We'll ask her. " To thebutler, who entered, he said: "Tell Miss Roberts that her fatherwould like to see her here. "

The man disappeared and the senator took a hand in cross-examiningthe now thoroughly uncomfortable secretary. 

"So you thought my daughter looked pale and that a littleexcursion to Buffalo would be a good thing for her? Well, it won'tbe a good thing for you, young man, I can assure you of that!"

The English aristocrat began to wilt. His assurance of mannerquite deserted him and he stammered painfully as he flounderedabout in excuses. 

"Not with me--oh dear, no, " he said. 

"You never proposed to run away with my daughter?" cried the iratefather. 

"Run away with her?" stammered Bagley. 

"And marry her?" shouted the senator, shaking his fist at him. 

"Oh say--this is hardly fair--three against one--really--I'mawfully sorry, eh, what?"

The door opened and Kate Roberts bounced in. She was smiling andfull of animal spirits, but on seeing the stern face of her fatherand the pitiable picture presented by her faithful Fitz she wasintelligent enough to immediately scent danger. 

"Did you want to see me, father?" she inquired boldly. 

"Yes, Kate, " answered the senator gravely, "we have just beenhaving a talk with Mr. Bagley, in which you were one of thesubjects of conversation. Can you guess what it was?"

The girl looked from her father to Bagley and from him to theRyders. Her aristocratic lover made a movement forward as if toexculpate himself, but he caught Ryder's eye and remained where hewas. 

"Well?" she said, with a nervous laugh. 

"Is it true" asked the senator, "that you were about to marry thisman secretly?"

She cast down her eyes and answered:

"I suppose you know everything. "

"Have you anything to add?" asked her father sternly. 

"No, " said Kate shaking her head. "It's true. We intended to runaway, didn't we Fitz?"

"Never mind about Mr. Bagley, " thundered her father. "Haven't youa word of shame for this disgrace you have brought upon me?"

"Oh papa, don't be so cross. Jefferson did not care for me. Icouldn't be an old maid. Mr. Bagley has a lovely castle inEngland, and one day he'll sit in the House of Lords. He'llexplain everything to you. "

"He'll explain nothing, " rejoined the senator grimly. "Mr. Bagleyreturns to England to-night. He won't have time to explainanything. "

"Returns to England?" echoed Kate dismayed. 

"Yes, and you go with me to Washington at once. "

The senator turned to Ryder. 

"Good-bye Ryder. The little domestic comedy is ended. I'm gratefulit didn't turn out a drama. The next time I pick out a son-in-lawI hope I'll have better luck. "

He shook hands with Jefferson, and left the room followed by hiscrestfallen daughter. 

Ryder, who had gone to write something at his desk, strode over towhere Mr. Bagley was standing and handed him a cheque. 

"Here, sir, this settles everything to date. Good-day. "

"But I--I--" stammered the secretary helplessly. 

"Good-day, sir. "

Ryder turned his back on him and conversed with, his son, whileMr. Bagley slowly, and as if regretfully, made his exit. 

CHAPTER XV

It was now December and the Senate had been in session for over aweek. Jefferson had not forgotten his promise, and one day, abouttwo weeks after Mr. Bagley's spectacular dismissal from the Ryderresidence, he had brought Shirley the two letters. She did not askhim how he got them, if he forced the drawer or procured the key. It sufficed for her that the precious letters--the absolute proofof her father's innocence--were at last in her possession. She atonce sent them off by registered mail to Stott, who immediatelyacknowledged receipt and at the same time announced his departurefor Washington that night. He promised to keep her constantlyinformed of what he was doing and how her father's case was going. It could, he thought, be only a matter of a few days now beforethe result of the proceedings would be known. 

The approach of the crisis made Shirley exceedingly nervous, andit was only by the exercise of the greatest self-control that shedid not betray the terrible anxiety she felt. The Ryder biographywas nearly finished and her stay in Seventy-fourth Street wouldsoon come to an end. She had a serious talk with Jefferson, whocontrived to see a good deal of her, entirely unsuspected by hisparents, for Mr. And Mrs. Ryder had no reason to believe thattheir son had any more than a mere bowing acquaintance with theclever young authoress. Now that Mr. Bagley was no longer there tospy upon their actions these clandestine interviews had beencomparatively easy. Shirley brought to bear all the arguments shecould think of to convince Jefferson of the hopelessness of theirengagement. She insisted that she could never be his wife;circumstances over which they had no control made that dreamimpossible. It were better, she said, to part now rather thanincur the risk of being unhappy later. But Jefferson refused to beconvinced. He argued and pleaded and he even swore--strange, desperate words that Shirley had never heard before and whichalarmed her not a little--and the discussion ended usually by akiss which put Shirley completely _hors de combat_. 

Meantime, John Ryder had not ceased worrying about his son. Theremoval of Kate Roberts as a factor in his future had noteliminated the danger of Jefferson taking the bit between histeeth one day and contracting a secret marriage with the daughterof his enemy, and when he thought of the mere possibility of sucha thing happening he stormed and raved until his wife, accustomedas she was to his choleric outbursts, was thoroughly frightened. For some time after Bagley's departure, father and son got alongtogether fairly amicably, but Ryder, Sr. Was quick to see thatJefferson had something on his mind which was worrying him, and herightly attributed it to his infatuation for Miss Rossmore. He wasconvinced that his son knew where the judge's daughter was, although his own efforts to discover her whereabouts had beenunsuccessful. Sergeant Ellison had confessed absolute failure;Miss Rossmore, he reported, had disappeared as completely as ifthe earth had swallowed her, and further search was futile. Knowing well his son's impulsive, headstrong disposition, Ryder, Sr. Believed him quite capable of marrying the girl secretly anytime. The only thing that John Ryder did not know was that ShirleyRossmore was not the kind of a girl to allow any man to inveigleher into a secret marriage. The Colossus, who judged the world'smorals by his own, was not of course aware of this, and he worriednight and day thinking what he could do to prevent his son frommarrying the daughter of the man he had wronged. 

The more he pondered over it, the more he regretted that therewas not some other girl with whom Jefferson could fall in loveand marry. He need not seek a rich girl--there was certainlyenough money in the Ryder family to provide for both. He wishedthey knew a girl, for example, as attractive and clever as MissGreen. Ah! he thought, there was a girl who would make a man ofJefferson--brainy, ambitious, active! And the more he thought ofit the more the idea grew on him that Miss Green would be an idealdaughter-in-law, and at the same time snatch his son from theclutches of the Rossmore woman. 

Jefferson, during all these weeks, was growing more and moreimpatient. He knew that any day now Shirley might take herdeparture from their house and return to Massapequa. If theimpeachment proceedings went against her father it was more thanlikely that he would lose her forever, and if, on the contrary, the judge were acquitted, Shirley never would be willing to marryhim without his father's consent; and this, he felt, he wouldnever obtain. He resolved, therefore, to have a final interviewwith his father and declare boldly his intention of making MissRossmore his wife, regardless of the consequences. 

The opportunity came one evening after dinner. Ryder, Sr. Wassitting alone in the library, reading, Mrs. Ryder had gone to thetheatre with a friend, Shirley as usual was writing in her room, giving the final touches to her now completed "History of theEmpire Trading Company. " Jefferson took the bull by the horns andboldly accosted his redoubtable parent. 

"May I have a few minutes of your time, father?"

Ryder, Sr. Laid aside the paper he was reading and looked up. Itwas unusual for his son to come to him on any errand, and he likedto encourage it. 

"Certainly, Jefferson. What is it?"

"I want to appeal to you, sir. I want you to use your influence, before it is too late, to save Judge Rossmore. A word from you atthis time would do wonders in Washington. "

The financier swung half-round in his chair, the smile of greetingfaded out of his face, and his voice was hard as he repliedcoldly:

"Again? I thought we had agreed not to discuss Judge Rossmore anyfurther?"

"I can't help it, sir, " rejoined Jefferson undeterred by hissire's hostile attitude, "that poor old man is practically ontrial for his life. He is as innocent of wrongdoing as a childunborn, and you know it. You could save him if you would. "

"Jefferson, " answered Ryder, Sr. , biting his lip to restrain hisimpatience, "I told you before that I could not interfere even ifI would; and I won't, because that man is my enemy. Importantbusiness interests, which you cannot possibly know anything about, demand his dismissal from the bench. "

"Surely your business interests don't demand the sacrifice of aman's life!" retorted Jefferson. "I know modern business methodsare none too squeamish, but I should think you'd draw the line atdeliberate murder!"

Ryder sprang to his feet and for a moment stood glaring at theyoung man. His lips moved, but no sound came from them. Suppressedwrath rendered him speechless. What was the world coming to when ason could talk to his father in this manner?

"How dare you presume to judge my actions or to criticise mymethods?" he burst out; finally. 

"You force me to do so, " answered Jefferson hotly. "I want to tellyou that I am heartily ashamed of this whole affair and yourconnection with it, and since you refuse to make reparation in theonly way possible for the wrong you and your associates have doneJudge Rossmore--that is by saving him in the Senate--I think itonly fair to warn you that I take back my word in regard to notmarrying without your consent. I want you to know that I intend tomarry Miss Rossmore as soon as she will consent to become my wife, that is, " he added with bitterness, "if I can succeed inovercoming her prejudices against my family--"

Ryder, Sr. Laughed contemptuously. 

"Prejudices against a thousand million dollars?" he exclaimedsceptically. 

"Yes, " replied Jefferson decisively, "prejudices against ourfamily, against you and your business practices. Money is noteverything. One day you will find that out. I tell you definitelythat I intend to make Miss Rossmore my wife. "

Ryder, Sr. Made no reply, and as Jefferson had expected anexplosion, this unnatural calm rather startled him. He was sorryhe had spoken so harshly. It was his father, after all. 

"You've forced me to defy you, father, " he added. "I'm sorry--"

Ryder, Sr. Shrugged his shoulders and resumed his seat. He litanother cigar, and with affected carelessness he said:

"All right, Jeff, my boy, we'll let it go at that You're sorry--soam I. You've shown me your cards--I'll show you mine. "

His composed unruffled manner vanished. He suddenly threw off themask and revealed the tempest that was raging within. He leanedacross the desk, his face convulsed with uncontrollable passion, aterrifying picture of human wrath. Shaking his fist at his son heshouted:

"When I get through with Judge Rossmore at Washington, I'll startafter his daughter. This time to-morrow he'll be a disgraced man. A week later she will be a notorious woman. Then we'll see ifyou'll be so eager to marry her!"

"Father!" cried Jefferson. 

"There is sure to be something in her life that won't bearinspection, " sneered Ryder. "There is in everybody's life. I'llfind out what it is. Where is she to-day? She can't be found. Noone knows where she is--not even her own mother. Something iswrong--the girl's no good!"

Jefferson started forward as if to resent these insults to thewoman he loved, but, realizing that it was his own father, hestopped short and his hands fell powerless at his side. 

"Well, is that all?" inquired Ryder, Sr. With a sneer. 

"That's all, " replied Jefferson, "I'm going. Good-bye. "

"Good-bye, " answered his father indifferently; "leave your addresswith your mother. "

Jefferson left the room, and Ryder, Sr. , as if exhausted by theviolence of his own outburst, sank back limp in his chair. Thecrisis he dreaded had come at last. His son had openly defied hisauthority and was going to marry the daughter of his enemy. Hemust do something to prevent it; the marriage must not take place, but what could he do? The boy was of age and legally his ownmaster. He could do nothing to restrain his actions unless theyput him in an insane asylum. He would rather see his son there, hemused, than married to the Rossmore woman. 

Presently there was a timid knock at the library door. Ryder rosefrom his seat and went to see who was there. To his surprise itwas Miss Green. 

"May I come in?" asked Shirley. 

"Certainly, by all means. Sit down. "

He drew up a chair for her, and his manner was so cordial that itwas easy to see she was a welcome visitor. 

"Mr. Ryder, " she began in a low, tremulous voice, "I have come tosee you on a very important matter. I've been waiting to see youall evening--and as I shall be here only a short time longerI--want to ask you a great favour--perhaps the greatest you wereever asked--I want to ask you for mercy--for mercy to--"

She stopped and glanced nervously at him, but she saw he waspaying no attention to what she was saying. He was puffing heavilyat his cigar, entirely preoccupied with his own thoughts. Hersudden silence aroused him. He apologized:

"Oh, excuse me--I didn't quite catch what you were saying. "

She said nothing, wondering what had happened to render him soabsent-minded. He read the question in her face, for, turningtowards her, he exclaimed:

"For the first time in my life I am face to face withdefeat--defeat of the most ignominious kind--incapacity--inabilityto regulate my own internal affairs. I can rule a government, butI can't manage my own family--my own son. I'm a failure. Tell me, "he added, appealing to her, "why can't I rule my own household, why can't I govern my own child?"

"Why can't you govern yourself?" said Shirley quietly. 

Ryder looked keenly at her for a moment without answering herquestion; then, as if prompted by a sudden inspiration, he said:

"You can help me, but not by preaching at me. This is the firsttime in my life I ever called on a living soul for help. I'm onlyaccustomed to deal with men. This time there's a woman in thecase--and I need your woman's wit--"

"How can I help you?" asked Shirley. 

"I don't know, " he answered with suppressed excitement. "As Itold you, I am up against a blank wall. I can't see my way. " Hegave a nervous little laugh and went on: "God! I'm ashamed ofmyself--ashamed! Did you ever read the fable of the Lion and theMouse? Well, I want you to gnaw with your sharp woman's teeth atthe cords which bind the son of John Burkett Ryder to thisRossmore woman. I want you to be the mouse--to set me free ofthis disgraceful entanglement. "

"How?" asked Shirley calmly. 

"Ah, that's just it--how?" he replied. "Can't you think--you're awoman--you have youth, beauty--brains. " He stopped and eyed herclosely until she reddened from the embarrassing scrutiny. Then heblurted out: "By George! marry him yourself--force him to let goof this other woman! Why not? Come, what do you say?"

This unexpected suggestion came upon Shirley with all the force ofa violent shock. She immediately saw the falseness of herposition. This man was asking for her hand for his son under theimpression that she was another woman. It would be dishonorable ofher to keep up the deception any longer. She passed her hand overher face to conceal her confusion. 

"You--you must give me time to think, " she stammered. "Suppose Idon't love your son--I should want something--something tocompensate. "

"Something to compensate?" echoed Ryder surprised and a littledisconcerted. "Why, the boy will inherit millions--I don't knowhow many. "

"No--no, not money, " rejoined Shirley; "money only compensatesthose who love money. It's something else--a man's honour--a man'slife! It means nothing to you. "

He gazed at her, not understanding. Full of his own project, hehad mind for nothing else. Ignoring therefore the question ofcompensation, whatever she might mean by that, he continued:

"You can win him if you make up your mind to. A woman with yourresources can blind him to any other woman. "

"But if--he loves Judge Rossmore's daughter?" objected Shirley. 

"It's for you to make him forget her--and you can, " replied thefinancier confidently. "My desire is to separate him from thisRossmore woman at any cost. You must help me. " His sternnessrelaxed somewhat and his eyes rested on her kindly. "Do you know, I should be glad to think you won't have to leave us. Mrs. Ryderhas taken a fancy to you, and I myself shall miss you when yougo. "

"You ask me to be your son's wife and you know nothing of myfamily, " said Shirley. 

"I know you--that is sufficient, " he replied. 

"No--no you don't, " returned Shirley, "nor do you know your son. He has more constancy--more strength of character than youthink--and far more principle than you have. "

"So much the greater the victory for you, " he answered goodhumouredly. 

"Ah, " she said reproachfully, "you do not love your son. "

"I do love him, " replied Ryder warmly. "It's because I love himthat I'm such a fool in this matter. Don't you see that if hemarries this girl it would separate us, and I should lose him. Idon't want to lose him. If I welcomed her to my house it wouldmake me the laughing-stock of all my friends and businessassociates. Come, will you join forces with me?"

Shirley shook her head and was about to reply when the telephonebell rang. Ryder took up the receiver and spoke to the butlerdownstairs:

"Who's that? Judge Stott? Tell him I'm too busy to see anyone. What's that? A man's life at stake? What's that to do with me?Tell him--"

On hearing Stott's name, Shirley nearly betrayed herself. Sheturned pale and half-started up from her chair. Something seriousmust have happened to bring her father's legal adviser to theRyder residence at such an hour! She thought he was in Washington. Could it be that the proceedings in the Senate were ended and theresult known? She could hardly conceal her anxiety, andinstinctively she placed her hand on Ryder's arm. 

"No, Mr. Ryder, do see Judge Stott! You must see him. I know whohe is. Your son has told me. Judge Stott is one of JudgeRossmore's advisers. See him. You may find out something about thegirl. You may find out where she is. If Jefferson finds out youhave refused to see her father's friend at such a critical time itwill only make him sympathize more deeply with the Rossmores, andyou know sympathy is akin to love. That's what you want to avoid, isn't it?"

Ryder still held the telephone, hesitating what to do. What shesaid sounded like good sense. 

"Upon my word--" he said. "You may be right and yet--"

"Am I to help you or not?" demanded Shirley. "You said you wanteda woman's wit. "

"Yes, " said Ryder, "but still--"

"Then you had better see him, " she said emphatically. 

Ryder turned to the telephone. 

"Hello, Jorkins, are you there? Show Judge Stott up here. " He laidthe receiver down and turned again to Shirley. "That's one thing Idon't like about you, " he said. "I allow you to decide against meand then I agree with you. " She said nothing and he went onlooking at her admiringly. "I predict that you'll bring that boyto your feet within a month. I don't know why, but I seem to feelthat he is attracted to you already. Thank Heaven! you haven't alot of troublesome relations. I think you said you were almostalone in the world. Don't look so serious, " he added laughing. "Jeff is a fine fellow, and believe me an excellent catch as theworld goes. "

Shirley raised her hand as if entreating him to desist. 

"Oh, don't--don't--please! My position is so false! You don't knowhow false it is!" she cried. 

At that instant the library door was thrown open and the butlerappeared, ushering in Stott. The lawyer looked anxious, and hisdishevelled appearance indicated that he had come direct from thetrain. Shirley scanned his face narrowly in the hope that shemight read there what had happened. He walked right past her, giving no sign of recognition, and advanced direct towards Ryder, who had risen and remained standing at his desk. 

"Perhaps I had better go?" ventured Shirley, although tortured byanxiety to hear the news from Washington. 

"No, " said Ryder quickly, "Judge Stott will detain me but a veryfew moments. "

Having delivered himself of this delicate hint, he looked towardshis visitor as if inviting him to come to the point as rapidly aspossible. 

"I must apologize for intruding at this unseemly hour, sir, " saidStott, "but time is precious. The Senate meets to-morrow to vote. If anything is to be done for Judge Rossmore it must be doneto-night. "

"I fail to see why you address yourself to me in this matter, sir, " replied Ryder with asperity. 

"As Judge Rossmore's friend and counsel, " answered Stott, "I amimpelled to ask your help at this critical moment. "

"The matter is in the hands of the United States Senate, sir, "replied Ryder coldly. 

"They are against him!" cried Stott; "not one senator I've spokento holds out any hope for him. If he is convicted it will mean hisdeath. Inch by inch his life is leaving him. The only thing thatcan save him is the good news of the Senate's refusal to find himguilty. "

Stott was talking so excitedly and loudly that neither he norRyder heard the low moan that came from the corner of the roomwhere Shirley was standing listening. 

"I can do nothing, " repeated Ryder coldly, and he turned his backand began to examine some papers lying on his desk as if to notifythe caller that the interview was ended. But Stott was not soeasily discouraged. He went on:

"As I understand it, they will vote on strictly party lines, andthe party in power is against him. He's a marked man. You have thepower to help him. " Heedless of Ryder's gesture of impatience hecontinued: "When I left his bedside to-night, sir, I promised toreturn to him with good news; I have told him that the Senateridicules the charges against him. I must return to him with goodnews. He is very ill to-night, sir. " He halted for a moment andglanced in Shirley's direction, and slightly raising his voice soshe might hear, he added: "If he gets worse we shall send for hisdaughter. "

"Where is his daughter?" demanded Ryder, suddenly interested. 

"She is working in her father's interests, " replied Stott, and, headded significantly, "I believe with some hope of success. "

He gave Shirley a quick, questioning look. She noddedaffirmatively. Ryder, who had seen nothing of this by-play, saidwith a sneer:

"Surely you didn't come here to-night to tell me this?"

"No, sir, I did not. " He took from his pocket two letters--the twowhich Shirley had sent him--and held them out for Ryder'sinspection. "These letters from Judge Rossmore to you, " he said, "show you to be acquainted with the fact that he bought thoseshares as an investment--and did not receive them as a bribe. "

When he caught sight of the letters and he realized what theywere, Ryder changed colour. Instinctively his eyes sought thedrawer on the left-hand side of his desk. In a voice that wasunnaturally calm, he asked:

"Why don't you produce them before the Senate?"

"It was too late, " explained Stott, handing them to the financier. "I received them only two days ago. But if you come forward anddeclare--"

Ryder made an effort to control himself. 

"I'll do nothing of the kind. I refuse to move in the matter. Thatis final. And now, sir, " he added, raising his voice and pointingto the letters, "I wish to know how comes it that you had in yourpossession private correspondence addressed to me?"

"That I cannot answer, " replied Stott promptly. 

"From whom did you receive these letters?" demanded Ryder. 

Stott was dumb, while Shirley clutched at her chair as if shewould fall. The financier repeated the question. 

"I must decline to answer, " replied Stott finally. 

Shirley left her place and came slowly forward. Addressing Ryder, she said:

"I wish to make a statement. "

The financier gazed at her in astonishment. What could sheknow about it, he wondered, and he waited with curiosity tohear what she was going to say. But Stott instantly realizedthat she was about to take the blame upon herself, regardlessof the consequences to the success of their cause. This mustbe prevented at all hazards, even if another must be sacrificed, so interrupting her he said hastily to Ryder:

"Judge Rossmore's life and honour are at stake and no false senseof delicacy must cause the failure of my object to save him. Theseletters were sent to me by--your son. "

"From my son!" exclaimed Ryder, starting. For a moment hestaggered as if he had received a blow; he was too much overcometo speak or act. Then recovering himself, he rang a bell, andturned to Stott with renewed fury:

"So, " he cried, "this man, this judge whose honour is at stake andhis daughter, who most likely has no honour at stake, between themhave made a thief and a liar of my son! false to his father, falseto his party; and you, sir, have the presumption to come here andask me to intercede for him!" To the butler, who entered, he said:"See if Mr. Jefferson is still in the house. If he is, tell him Iwould like to see him here at once. "

The man disappeared, and Ryder strode angrily up and down the roomwith the letters in his hand. Then, turning abruptly on Stott, hesaid:

"And now, sir, I think nothing more remains to be said. I shallkeep these letters, as they are my property. "

"As you please. Good night, sir. "

"Good night, " replied Ryder, not looking up. 

With a significant glance at Shirley, who motioned to him that shemight yet succeed where he had failed, Stott left the room. Ryderturned to Shirley. His fierceness of manner softened down as headdressed the girl:

"You see what they have done to my son--"

"Yes, " replied Shirley, "it's the girl's fault. If Jeffersonhadn't loved her you would have helped the judge. Ah, why did theyever meet! She has worked on his sympathy and he--he took theseletters for her sake, not to injure you. Oh, you must make someallowance for him! One's sympathy gets aroused in spite ofoneself; even I feel sorry for--these people. "

"Don't, " replied Ryder grimly, "sympathy is often weakness. Ah, there you are!" turning to Jefferson, who entered the room at thatmoment. 

"You sent for me, father?"

"Yes, " said Ryder, Sr. , holding up the letters. "Have you everseen these letters before?"

Jefferson took the letters and examined them, then he passed themback to his father and said frankly:

"Yes, I took them out of your desk and sent them to Mr. Stott inthe hope they would help Judge Rossmore's case. "

Ryder restrained himself from proceeding to actual violence onlywith the greatest difficulty. His face grew white as death, hislips were compressed, his hands twitched convulsively, his eyesflashed dangerously. He took another cigar to give the impressionthat he had himself well under control, but the violent tremblingof his hands as he lit it betrayed the terrific strain he wasunder. 

"So!" he said, "you deliberately sacrificed my interests to savethis woman's father--you hear him, Miss Green? Jefferson, my boy, I think it's time you and I had a final accounting. "

Shirley made a motion as if about to withdraw. He stopped her witha gesture. 

"Please don't go, Miss Green. As the writer of my biography youare sufficiently well acquainted with my family affairs to warrantyour being present at the epilogue. Besides, I want an excuse forkeeping my temper. Sit down, Miss Green. "

Turning to Jefferson, he went on:

"For your mother's sake, my boy, I have overlooked your littleeccentricities of character. But now we have arrived at theparting of the ways--you have gone too far. The one aspect of thisbusiness I cannot overlook is your willingness to sell, your ownfather for the sake of a woman. "

"My own father, " interrupted Jefferson bitterly, "would nothesitate to sell me if his business and political interestswarranted the sacrifice!"

Shirley attempted the rôle of peacemaker. Appealing to the youngerman, she said:

"Please don't talk like that, Mr. Jefferson. " Then she turned toRyder, Sr. : "I don't think your son quite understands you, Mr. Ryder, and, if you will pardon me, I don't think you quiteunderstand him. Do you realize that there is a man's life atstake--that Judge Rossmore is almost at the point of death andthat favourable news from the Senate to-morrow is perhaps the onlything that can save him?"

"Ah, I see, " sneered Ryder, Sr. "Judge Stott's story has arousedyour sympathy. "

"Yes, I--I confess my sympathy is aroused. I do feel for thisfather whose life is slowly ebbing away--whose strength is beingsapped hourly by the thought of the disgrace--the injustice thatis being done him! I do feel for the wife of this suffering man!"

"Ah, its a complete picture!" cried Ryder mockingly. "The dyingfather, the sorrowing mother--and the daughter, what is shesupposed to be doing?"

"She is fighting for her father's life, " cried Shirley, "and you, Mr. Jefferson, should have pleaded--pleaded--not demanded. It's nouse trying to combat your father's will. "

"She is quite right, father. I should have implored you. I do sonow. I ask you for God's sake to help us!"

Ryder was grim and silent. He rose from his seat and paced theroom, puffing savagely at his cigar. Then he turned and said:

"His removal is a political necessity. If he goes back on thebench every paltry justice of the peace, every petty official willthink he has a special mission to tear down the structure thathard work and capital have erected. No, this man has beenespecially conspicuous in his efforts to block the progress ofamalgamated interests. "

"And so he must be sacrificed?" cried Shirley indignantly. 

"He is a meddlesome man, " insisted Ryder "and--"

"He is innocent of the charges brought against him, " urgedJefferson. 

"Mr. Ryder is not considering that point, " said Shirley bitterly. "All he can see is that it is necessary to put this poor old manin the public pillory, to set him up as a warning to others of hisclass not to act in accordance with the principles of Truth andJustice--not to dare to obstruct the car of Juggernaut set inmotion by the money gods of the country!"

"It's the survival of the fittest, my dear, " said Ryder coldly. 

"Oh!" cried Shirley, making a last appeal to the financier's heartof stone, "use your great influence with this governing body forgood, not evil! Urge them to vote not in accordance with partypolicy and personal interest, but in accordance with theirconsciences--in accordance with Truth and Justice! Ah, for God'ssake, Mr. Ryder! don't permit this foul injustice to blot the nameof the highest tribunal in the Western world!"

Ryder laughed cynically. 

"By Jove! Jefferson, I give you credit for having secured aneloquent advocate!"

"Suppose, " went on Shirley, ignoring his taunting comments, "suppose this daughter promises that she will never--never seeyour son again--that she will go away to some foreign country!"

"No!" burst in Jefferson, "why should she? If my father is not manenough to do a simple act of justice without bartering a woman'shappiness and his son's happiness, let him find comfort in hisself-justification!"

Shirley, completely unnerved, made a move towards the door, unablelonger to bear the strain she was under. She tottered as thoughshe would fall. Ryder made a quick movement towards his son andtook him by the arm. Pointing to Shirley he said in a low tone:

"You see how that girl pleads your cause for you! She loves you, my boy!" Jefferson started. "Yes, she does, " pursued Ryder, Sr. "She's worth a thousand of the Rossmore woman. Make her your wifeand I'll--"

"Make her my wife!" cried Jefferson joyously. He stared at hisparent as if he thought he had suddenly been bereft of his senses. 

"Make her my wife?" he repeated incredulously. 

"Well, what do you say?" demanded Ryder, Sr. 

The young man advanced towards Shirley, hands outstretched. 

"Yes, yes, Shir--Miss Green, will you?" Seeing that Shirley madeno sign, he said: "Not now, father; I will speak to her later. "

"No, no, to-night, at once!" insisted Ryder. Addressing Shirley, he went on: "Miss Green, my son is much affected by yourdisinterested appeal in his behalf. He--he--you can save him fromhimself--my son wishes you--he asks you to become his wife! Is itnot so, Jefferson?"

"Yes, yes, my wife!" advancing again towards Shirley. 

The girl shrank back in alarm. 

"No, no, no, Mr. Ryder, I cannot, I cannot!" she cried. 

"Why not?" demanded Ryder, Sr. Appealingly. "Ah, don't--don'tdecide hastily--"

Shirley, her face set and drawn and keen mental distress showingin every line of it, faced the two men, pale and determined. Thetime had come to reveal the truth. This masquerade could go on nolonger. It was not honourable either to her father or to herself. Her self-respect demanded that she inform the financier of hertrue identity. 

"I cannot marry your son with these lies upon my lips!" she cried. "I cannot go on with this deception. I told you you did not knowwho I was, who my people were. My story about them, my name, everything about me is false, every word I have uttered is a lie, a fraud, a cheat! I would not tell you now, but you trusted me andare willing to entrust your son's future, your family honour in mykeeping, and I can't keep back the truth from you. Mr. Ryder, I amthe daughter of the man you hate. I am the woman your son loves. Iam Shirley Rossmore!"

Ryder took his cigar from his lips and rose slowly to his feet. 

"You? You?" he stammered. 

 [Photo, from the play, of Jefferson and Shirley appealing to Mr. Ryder]

 "For God's sake, Mr. Ryder, don't permit this foul injustice. "--Act III. 

"Yes--yes, I am the Rossmore woman! Listen, Mr. Ryder. Don't turnaway from me. Go to Washington on behalf of my father, and Ipromise you I will never see your son again--never, never!"

"Ah, Shirley!" cried Jefferson, "you don't love me!"

"Yes, Jeff, I do; God knows I do! But if I must break my own heartto save my father I will do it. "

"Would you sacrifice my happiness and your own?"

"No happiness can be built on lies, Jeff. We must build on truthor our whole house will crumble and fall. We have deceived yourfather, but he will forgive that, won't you?" she said, appealingto Ryder, "and you will go to Washington, you will save myfather's honour, his life, you will--?"

They stood face to face--this slim, delicate girl battling for herfather's life, arrayed against a cold-blooded, heartless, unscrupulous man, deaf to every impulse of human sympathy or pity. Since this woman had deceived him, fooled him, he would deal withher as with everyone else who crossed his will. She laid her handon his arm, pleading with him. Brutally, savagely, he thrust heraside. 

"No, no, I will not!" he thundered. "You have wormed yourself intomy confidence by means of lies and deceit. You have tricked me, fooled me to the very limit! Oh, it is easy to see how you havebeguiled my son into the folly of loving you! And you--you havethe brazen effrontery to ask me to plead for your father? No! No!No! Let the law take its course, and now Miss Rossmore--you willplease leave my house to-morrow morning!"

Shirley stood listening to what he had to say, her face white, hermouth quivering. At last the crisis had come. It was a fight tothe finish between this man, the incarnation of corporate greedand herself, representing the fundamental principles of right andjustice. She turned on him in a fury:

"Yes, I will leave your house to-night! Do you think I wouldremain another hour beneath the roof of a man who is as blind tojustice, as deaf to mercy, as incapable of human sympathy as youare!"

She raised her voice; and as she stood there denouncing the man ofmoney, her eyes flashing and her head thrown back, she looked likesome avenging angel defying one of the powers of Evil. 

"Leave the room!" shouted Ryder, beside himself, and pointing tothe door. 

"Father!" cried Jefferson, starting forward to protect the girl heloved. 

"You have tricked him as you have me!" thundered Ryder. 

"It is your own vanity that has tricked you!" cried Shirleycontemptuously. "You lay traps for yourself and walk into them. You compel everyone around you to lie to you, to cajole you, topraise you, to deceive you! At least, you cannot accuse me offlattering you. I have never fawned upon you as you compel yourfamily and your friends and your dependents to do. I have alwaysappealed to your better nature by telling you the truth, and inyour heart you know that I am speaking the truth now. "

"Go!" he commanded. 

"Yes, let us go, Shirley!" said Jefferson. 

"No, Jeff, I came here alone and I'm going alone!"

"You are not. I shall go with you. I intend to make you my wife!"

Ryder laughed scornfully. 

"No, " cried Shirley. "Do you think I'd marry a man whose father isas deep a discredit to the human race as your father is? No, Iwouldn't marry the son of such a merciless tyrant! He refuses tolift his voice to save my father. I refuse to marry his son!"

She turned on Ryder with all the fury of a tiger:

"You think if you lived in the olden days you'd be a Caesar or anAlexander. But you wouldn't! You'd be a Nero--a Nero! Sink myself-respect to the extent of marrying into your family!" sheexclaimed contemptuously. "Never! I am going to Washington withoutyour aid. I am going to save my father if I have to go on my kneesto every United States Senator. I'll go to the White House; I'lltell the President what you are! Marry your son--no, thank you!No, thank you!"

Exhausted by the vehemence of her passionate outburst, Shirleyhurried from the room, leaving Ryder speechless, staring at hisson. 

CHAPTER XVI

When Shirley reached her rooms she broke down completely, shethrew herself upon a sofa and burst into a fit of violent sobbing. After all, she was only a woman and the ordeal through which shehad passed would have taxed the strongest powers of endurance. Shehad borne up courageously while there remained the faintest chancethat she might succeed in moving the financier to pity, but nowthat all hopes in that direction were shattered and she herselfhad been ordered harshly from the house like any ordinarymalefactor, the reaction set in, and she gave way freely to herlong pent-up anguish and distress. Nothing now could save herfather--not even this journey to Washington which she determinedto take nevertheless, for, according to what Stott had said, theSenate was to take a vote that very night. 

She looked at the time--eleven o'clock. She had told Mr. Ryderthat she would leave his house at once, but on reflection it wasimpossible for a girl alone to seek a room at that hour. It wouldbe midnight before she could get her things packed. No, she wouldstay under this hated roof until morning and then take the firsttrain to Washington. There was still a chance that the vote mightbe delayed, in which case she might yet succeed in winning oversome of the senators. She began to gather her things together andwas thus engaged when she, heard a knock at her door. 

"Who's there?" she called out. 

"It's I, " replied a familiar voice. 

Shirley went to the door and opening it found Jefferson on thethreshold. He made no attempt to enter, nor did she invite him in. He looked tired and careworn. 

"Of course, you're not going to-night?" he asked anxiously. "Myfather did not mean to-night. "

"No, Jeff, " she said wearily; "not to-night. It's a little toolate. I did not realize it. To-morrow morning, early. "

He seemed reassured and held out his hand:

"Good-night, dearest--you're a brave girl. You made a splendidfight. "

"It didn't do much good, " she replied in a disheartened, listlessway. 

"But it set him thinking, " rejoined Jefferson. "No one ever spoketo my father like that before. It did him good. He's stillmarching up and down the library, chewing the cud--"

Noticing Shirley's tired face and her eyes, with great blackcircles underneath, he stopped short. 

"Now don't do any more packing to-night, " he said. "Go to bed andin the morning I'll come up and help you. Good night!"

"Good night, Jeff, " she smiled. 

He went downstairs, and after doing some more packing she went tobed. But it was hours before she got to sleep, and then shedreamed that she was in the Senate Chamber and that she saw Rydersuddenly rise and denounce himself before the astonished senatorsas a perjurer and traitor to his country, while she returned toMassapequa with the glad news that her father was acquitted. 

Meantime, a solitary figure remained in the library, pacing to andfro like a lost soul in Purgatory. Mrs. Ryder had returned fromthe play and gone to bed, serenely oblivious of the drama in reallife that had been enacted at home, the servants locked the houseup for the night and still John Burkett Ryder walked the floor ofhis sanctum, and late into the small hours of the morning thewatchman going his lonely rounds, saw a light in the library andthe restless figure of his employer sharply silhouetted againstthe white blinds. 

For the first time in his life John Ryder realized that there wassomething in the world beyond Self. He had seen with his own eyesthe sacrifice a daughter will make for the father she loves, andhe asked himself what manner of a man that father could be toinspire such devotion in his child. He probed into his own heartand conscience and reviewed his past career. He had beenphenomenally successful, but he had not been happy. He had moremoney than he knew what to do with, but the pleasures of thedomestic circle, which he saw other men enjoy, had been denied tohim. Was he himself to blame? Had his insensate craving for goldand power led him to neglect those other things in life whichcontribute more truly to man's happiness? In other words, was hislife a mistake? Yes, it was true what this girl charged, he hadbeen merciless and unscrupulous in his dealings with his fellowman. It was true that hardly a dollar of his vast fortune had beenhonestly earned. It was true that it had been wrung from thepeople by fraud and trickery. He had craved for power, yet now hehad tasted it, what a hollow joy it was, after all! The publichated and despised him; even his so-called friends and businessassociates toadied to him merely because they feared him. And thisjudge--this father he had persecuted and ruined, what a better manand citizen he was, how much more worthy of a child's love and ofthe esteem of the world! What had Judge Rossmore done, after all, to deserve the frightful punishment the amalgamated interests hadcaused him to suffer? If he had blocked their game, he had doneonly what his oath, his duty commanded him to do. Such a girl asShirley Rossmore could not have had any other kind of a father. Ah, if he had had such a daughter he might have been a better man, if only to win his child's respect and affection. John Ryderpondered long and deeply and the more he ruminated the strongerthe conviction grew upon him that the girl was right and he waswrong. Suddenly, he looked at his watch. It was one o'clock. Roberts had told him that it would be an all night session andthat a vote would probably not be taken until very late. Heunhooked the telephone and calling "central" asked for "longdistance" and connection with Washington. 

It was seven o'clock when the maid entered Shirley's room with herbreakfast and she found its occupant up and dressed. 

"Why you haven't been to bed, Miss!" exclaimed the girl, lookingat the bed in the inner room which seemed scarcely disturbed. 

"No, Theresa I--I couldn't sleep. " Hastily pouring out a cup oftea she added. "I must catch that nine o'clock train toWashington. I didn't finish packing until nearly three. "

"Can I do anything for you, Miss?" inquired the maid. Shirley wasas popular with the servants as with the rest of the household. 

"No, " answered Shirley, "there are only a few things to go in mysuit case. Will you please have a cab here in half an hour?"

The maid was about to go when she suddenly thought of somethingshe had forgotten. She held out an envelope which she had leftlying on the tray. 

"Oh, Miss, Mr. Jorkins said to give you this and master wanted tosee you as soon as you had finished your breakfast. "

Shirley tore open the envelope and took out the contents. It was acheque, payable to her order for $5, 000 and signed "John BurkettRyder. "

A deep flush covered the girl's face as she saw the money--a flushof annoyance rather than of pleasure. This man who had insultedher, who had wronged her father, who had driven her from his home, thought he could throw his gold at her and insolently send her herpay as one settles haughtily with a servant discharged forimpertinence. She would have none of his money--the work she haddone she would make him a present of. She replaced the cheque inthe envelope and passed it back to Theresa. 

"Give this to Mr. Ryder and tell him I cannot see him. "

"But Mr. Ryder said--" insisted the girl. 

"Please deliver my message as I give it, " commanded Shirley withauthority. "I cannot see Mr. Ryder. "

The maid withdrew, but she had barely closed the door when it wasopened again and Mrs. Ryder rushed in, without knocking. She wasall flustered with excitement and in such a hurry that she had noteven stopped to arrange her toilet. 

"My dear Miss Green, " she gasped; "what's this I hear--going awaysuddenly without giving me warning?"

"I wasn't engaged by the month, " replied Shirley drily. 

"I know, dear, I know. I was thinking of myself. I've grown soused to you--how shall I get on without you--no one understands methe way you do. Dear me! The whole house is upset. Mr. Ryder neverwent to bed at all last night. Jefferson is going away, too--forever, he threatens. If he hadn't come and woke me up tosay good-bye, I should never have known you intended to leave us. My boy's going--you're going--everyone's deserting me!"

Mrs. Ryder was not accustomed to such prolonged flights of oratoryand she sank exhausted on a chair, her eyes filling with tears. 

"Did they tell you who I am--the daughter of Judge Rossmore?"demanded Shirley. 

It had been a shock to Mrs. Ryder that morning when Jeffersonburst into his mother's room before she was up and acquainted herwith the events of the previous evening. The news that the MissGreen whom she had grown to love, was really the Miss Rossmore ofwhose relations with Jefferson her husband stood in such dread, was far from affecting the financier's wife as it had Ryderhimself. To the mother's simple and ingenuous mind, free fromprejudice and ulterior motive, the girl's character was moreimportant than her name, and certainly she could not blame her sonfor loving such a woman as Shirley. Of course, it was unfortunatefor Jefferson that his father felt this bitterness towards JudgeRossmore, for she herself could hardly have wished for a moresympathetic daughter-in-law. She had not seen her husband sincethe previous evening at dinner so was in complete ignorance as towhat he thought of this new development, but the mother sighed asshe thought how happy it would make her to see Jefferson happilymarried to the girl of his own choice, and in her heart she stillentertained the hope that her husband would see it that way andthus prevent their son from leaving them as he threatened. 

"That's not your fault, my dear, " she replied answering Shirley'squestion. "You are yourself--that's the main thing. You mustn'tmind what Mr. Ryder says? Business and worry makes him irritableat times. If you must go, of course you must--you are the bestjudge of that, but Jefferson wants to see you before you leave. "She kissed Shirley in motherly fashion, and added: "He has told meeverything, dear. Nothing would make me happier than to see youbecome his wife. He's downstairs now waiting for me to tell him tocome up. "

"It's better that I should not see him, " replied Shirley slowlyand gravely. "I can only tell him what I have already told him. Myfather comes first. I have still a duty to perform. "

"That's right, dear, " answered Mrs. Ryder. "You're a good, noblegirl and I admire you all the more for it. I'll let Jefferson behis own advocate. You'll see him for my sake!"

She gave Shirley another affectionate embrace and left the roomwhile the girl proceeded with her final preparations fordeparture. Presently there was a quick, heavy step in the corridoroutside and Jefferson appeared in the doorway. He stood therewaiting for her to invite him in. She looked up and greeted himcordially, yet it was hardly the kind of reception he looked foror that he considered he had a right to expect. He advancedsulkily into the room. 

"Mother said she had put everything right, " he began. "I guess shewas mistaken. "

"Your mother does not understand, neither do you, " she repliedseriously. "Nothing can be put right until my father is restoredto honour and position. "

"But why should you punish me because my father fails to regardthe matter as we do?" demanded Jefferson rebelliously. 

"Why should I punish myself--why should we punish those nearestand dearest?" answered Shirley gently, "the victims of humaninjustice always suffer where their loved ones are tortured. Whyare things as they are--I don't know. I know they are--that'sall. "

The young man strode nervously up and down the room while shegazed listlessly out of the window, looking for the cab that wasto carry her away from this house of disappointment. He pleadedwith her:

"I have tried honourably and failed--you have tried honourably andfailed. Isn't the sting of impotent failure enough to meet withoutstriving against a hopeless love?" He approached her and saidsoftly: "I love you Shirley--don't drive me to desperation. Must Ibe punished because you have failed? It's unfair. The sins of thefathers should not be visited upon the children. "

"But they are--it's the law, " said Shirley with resignation. 

"The law?" he echoed. 

"Yes, the law, " insisted the girl; "man's law, not God's, the sameunjust law that punishes my father--man's law which is put intothe hands of the powerful of the earth to strike at the weak. "

She sank into a chair and, covering up her face, wept bitterly. Between her sobs she cried brokenly:

"I believed in the power of love to soften your father's heart, Ibelieved that with God's help I could bring him to see the truth. I believed that Truth and Love would make him see the light, butit hasn't. I stayed on and on, hoping against hope until the timehas gone by and it's too late to save him, too late! What can I donow? My going to Washington is a forlorn hope, a last, miserable, forlorn hope and in this hour, the darkest of all, you ask me tothink of myself--my love, your love, your happiness, your future, my future! Ah, wouldn't it be sublime selfishness?"

Jefferson kneeled down beside the chair and taking her hand inhis, tried to reason with her and comfort her:

"Listen, Shirley, " he said, "do not do something you will surelyregret. You are punishing me not only because I have failed butbecause you have failed too. It seems to me that if you believedit possible to accomplish so much, if you had so much faith--thatyou have lost your faith rather quickly. I believed in nothing, Ihad no faith and yet I have not lost hope. "

She shook her head and gently withdrew her hand. 

"It is useless to insist, Jefferson--until my father is cleared ofthis stain our lives--yours and mine--must lie apart. "

Someone coughed and, startled, they both looked up. Mr. Ryder hadentered the room unobserved and stood watching them. Shirleyimmediately rose to her feet indignant, resenting this intrusionon her privacy after she had declined to receive the financier. Yet, she reflected quickly, how could she prevent it? He was athome, free to come and go as he pleased, but she was not compelledto remain in the same room with him. She picked up the few thingsthat lay about and with a contemptuous toss of her head, retreatedinto the inner apartment, leaving father and son alone together. 

"Hum, " grunted Ryder, Sr. "I rather thought I should find you here, but I didn't quite expect to find you on your knees--dragging ourpride in the mud. "

"That's where our pride ought to be, " retorted Jefferson savagely. He felt in the humor to say anything, no matter what theconsequences. 

"So she has refused you again, eh?" said Ryder, Sr. With a grin. 

"Yes, " rejoined Jefferson with growing irritation, "she objects tomy family. I don't blame her. "

The financier smiled grimly as he answered:

"Your family in general--me in particular, eh? I gleaned that muchwhen I came in. " He looked towards the door of the room in whichShirley had taken refuge and as if talking to himself he added: "Acurious girl with an inverted point of view--sees everythingdifferent to others--I want to see her before she goes. "

He walked over to the door and raised his hand as if he were aboutto knock. Then he stopped as if he had changed his mind andturning towards his son he demanded:

"Do you mean to say that she has done with you?"

"Yes, " answered Jefferson bitterly. 

"Finally?"

"Yes, finally--forever!"

"Does she mean it?" asked Ryder, Sr. , sceptically. 

"Yes--she will not listen to me while her father is still inperil. "

There was an expression of half amusement, half admiration on thefinancier's face as he again turned towards the door. 

"It's like her, damn it, just like her!" he muttered. 

He knocked boldly at the door. 

"Who's there?" cried Shirley from within. 

"It is I--Mr. Ryder. I wish to speak to you. "

"I must beg you to excuse me, " came the answer, "I cannot seeyou. "

Jefferson interfered. 

"Why do you want to add to the girl's misery? Don't you think shehas suffered enough?"

"Do you know what she has done?" said Ryder with pretendedindignation. "She has insulted me grossly. I never was sohumiliated in my life. She has returned the cheque I sent her lastnight in payment for her work on my biography. I mean to make hertake that money. It's hers, she needs it, her father's a beggar. She must take it back. It's only flaunting her contempt for me inmy face and I won't permit it. "

 [Photo, from the play, of Mr. Ryder holding out a cheque to Shirley. ]

 "So I contaminate even good money?"--Act IV. 

"I don't think her object in refusing that money was to flauntcontempt in your face, or in any way humiliate you, " answeredJefferson. "She feels she has been sailing under false colours anddesires to make some reparation. "

"And so she sends me back my money, feeling that will pacify me, perhaps repair the injury she has done me, perhaps buy me intoentering into her plan of helping her father, but it won't. Itonly increases my determination to see her and her--" Suddenlychanging the topic he asked: "When do you leave us?"

"Now--at once--that is--I--don't know, " answered Jeffersonembarrassed. "The fact is my faculties are numbed--I seem to havelost my power of thinking. Father, " he exclaimed, "you see what awreck you have made of our lives!"

"Now, don't moralize, " replied his father testily, "as if your ownselfishness in desiring to possess that girl wasn't the mainspringof all your actions!" Waving his son out of the room he added:"Now leave me alone with her for a few moments. Perhaps I can makeher listen to reason. "

Jefferson stared at his father as if he feared he were out of hismind. 

"What do you mean? Are you--?" he ejaculated. 

"Go--go leave her to me, " commanded the financier. "Slam the doorwhen you go out and she'll think we've both gone. Then come upagain presently. "

The stratagem succeeded admirably. Jefferson gave the door avigorous pull and John Ryder stood quiet, waiting for the girl toemerge from sanctuary. He did not have to wait long. The door soonopened and Shirley came out slowly. She had her hat on and wasdrawing on her gloves, for through her window she had caught aglimpse of the cab standing at the curb. She started on seeingRyder standing there motionless, and she would have retreated hadhe not intercepted her. 

"I wish to speak to you Miss--Rossmore, " he began. 

"I have nothing to say, " answered Shirley frigidly. 

"Why did you do this?" he asked, holding out the cheque. 

"Because I do not want your money, " she replied with hauteur. 

"It was yours--you earned it, " he said. 

"No, I came here hoping to influence you to help my father. Thework I did was part of the plan. It happened to fall my way. Itook it as a means to get to your heart. "

"But it is yours, please take it. It will be useful. "

"No, " she said scornfully, "I can't tell you how low I should fallin my own estimation if I took your money! Money, " she added, withringing contempt, "why, that's all there is to _you!_ It's yourgod! Shall I make your god my god? No, thank you, Mr. Ryder!"

"Am I as bad as that?" he asked wistfully. 

"You are as bad as that!" she answered decisively. 

"So bad that I contaminate even good money?" He spoke lightly butshe noticed that he winced. 

"Money itself is nothing, " replied the girl, "it's the spirit thatgives it--the spirit that receives it, the spirit that earns it, the spirit that spends it. Money helps to create happiness. Italso creates misery. It's an engine of destruction when notproperly used, it destroys individuals as it does nations. It hasdestroyed you, for it has warped your soul!"

"Go on, " he laughed bitterly, "I like to hear you!"

"No, you don't, Mr. Ryder, no you don't, for deep down in yourheart you know that I am speaking the truth. Money and the powerit gives you, has dried up the well-springs of your heart. "

He affected to be highly amused at her words, but behind the maskof callous indifference the man suffered. Her words seared him aswith a red hot iron. She went on:

"In the barbaric ages they fought for possession, but they foughtopenly. The feudal barons fought for what they stole, but it was afair fight. They didn't strike in the dark. At least, they gave aman a chance for his life. But when you modern barons of industrydon't like legislation you destroy it, when you don't like yourjudges you remove them, when a competitor outbids you you squeezehim out of commercial existence! You have no hearts, you aremachines, and you are cowards, for you fight unfairly. "

"It is not true, it is not true, " he protested. 

"It is true, " she insisted hotly, "a few hours ago in cold bloodyou doomed my father to what is certain death because you decidedit was a political necessity. In other words he interfered withyour personal interests--your financial interests--you, with somany millions you can't count them!" Scornfully she added: "Comeout into the light--fight in the open! At least, let him know whohis enemy is!"

"Stop--stop--not another word, " he cried impatiently, "you havediagnosed the disease. What of the remedy? Are you prepared toreconstruct human nature?"

Confronting each other, their eyes met and he regarded her withoutresentment, almost with tenderness. He felt strangely drawntowards this woman who had defied and accused him, and made himsee the world in a new light. 

"I don't deny, " he admitted reluctantly, "that things seem to beas you describe them, but it is part of the process of evolution. "

"No, " she protested, "it is the work of God!"

"It is evolution!" he insisted. 

"Ah, that's it, " she retorted, "you evolve new ideas, new schemes, new tricks--you all worship different gods--gods of your ownmaking!"

He was about to reply when there was a commotion at the door andTheresa entered, followed by a man servant to carry down thetrunk. 

"The cab is downstairs, Miss, " said the maid. 

Ryder waved them away imperiously. He had something further to saywhich he did not care for servants to hear. Theresa and the manprecipitately withdrew, not understanding, but obeying withalacrity a master who never brooked delay in the execution of hisorders. Shirley, indignant, looked to him for an explanation. 

"You don't need them, " he exclaimed with a quiet smile in whichwas a shade of embarrassment. "I--I came here to tell you thatI--" He stopped as if unable to find words, while Shirley gazed athim in utter astonishment. "Ah, " he went on finally, "you havemade it very hard for me to speak. " Again he paused and then withan effort he said slowly: "An hour ago I had Senator Roberts onthe long distance telephone, and I'm going to Washington. It's allright about your father. The matter will be dropped. You've beatenme. I acknowledge it. You're the first living soul who ever hasbeaten John Burkett Ryder. "

Shirley started forward with a cry of mingled joy and surprise. Could she believe her ears? Was it possible that the dreadedColossus had capitulated and that she had saved her father? Hadthe forces of right and justice prevailed, after all? Her facetransfigured, radiant she exclaimed breathlessly:

"What, Mr. Ryder, you mean that you are going to help my father?"

"Not for his sake--for yours, " he answered frankly. 

Shirley hung her head. In her moment of triumph, she was sorry forall the hard things she had said to this man. She held out herhand to him. 

"Forgive me, " she said gently, "it was for my father. I had nofaith. I thought your heart was of stone. "

Impulsively Ryder drew her to him, he clasped her two hands in hisand looking down at her kindly he said, awkwardly:

"So it was--so it was! You accomplished the miracle. It's thefirst time I've acted on pure sentiment. Let me tell yousomething. Good sentiment is bad business and good businessis bad sentiment--that's why a rich man is generally supposed tohave such a hard time getting into the Kingdom of Heaven. " Helaughed and went on, "I've given ten millions apiece to threeuniversities. Do you think I'm fool enough to suppose I can buy myway? But that's another matter. I'm going to Washington on behalfof your father because I--want you to marry my son. Yes, I wantyou in the family, close to us. I want your respect, my girl. Iwant your love. I want to earn it. I know I can't buy it. There'sa weak spot in every man's armour and this is mine--I always wantwhat I can't get and I can't get your love unless I earn it. "

Shirley remained pensive. Her thoughts were out on Long Island, atMassapequa. She was thinking of their joy when they heard thenews--her father, her mother and Stott. She was thinking of thefuture, bright and glorious with promise again, now that the darkclouds were passing away. She thought of Jefferson and a softlight came into her eyes as she foresaw a happy wifehood sharedwith him. 

"Why so sober, " demanded Ryder, "you've gained your point, yourfather is to be restored to you, you'll marry the man you love?"

"I'm so happy!" murmured Shirley. "I don't deserve it. I had nofaith. "

Ryder released her and took out his watch. 

"I leave in fifteen minutes for Washington, " he said. "Will youtrust me to go alone?"

"I trust you gladly, " she answered smiling at him. "I shall alwaysbe grateful to you for letting me convert you. "

"You won me over last night, " he rejoined, "when you put up thatfight for your father. I made up my mind that a girl so loyal toher father would be loyal to her husband. You think, " he went on, "that I do not love my son--you are mistaken. I do love him and Iwant him to be happy. I am capable of more affection than peoplethink. It is Wall Street, " he added bitterly, "that has crushedall sentiment out of me. "

Shirley laughed nervously, almost hysterically. 

"I want to laugh and I feel like crying, " she cried. "What willJefferson say--how happy he will be!"

"How are you going to tell him?" inquired Ryder uneasily. 

"I shall tell him that his dear, good father has relented and--"

"No, my dear, " he interrupted, "you will say nothing of the sort. I draw the line at the dear, good father act. I don't want him tothink that it comes from me at all. "

"But, " said Shirley puzzled, "I shall have to tell him that you--"

"What?" exclaimed Ryder, "acknowledge to my son that I was in thewrong, that I've seen the error of my ways and wish to repent?Excuse me, " he added grimly, "it's got to come from him. He mustsee the error of _his_ ways. "

"But the error of his way, " laughed the girl, "was falling in lovewith me. I can never prove to him that that was wrong!"

The financier refused to be convinced. He shook his head and saidstubbornly:

"Well, he must be put in the wrong somehow or other! Why, my dearchild, " he went on, "that boy has been waiting all his life for anopportunity to say to me: 'Father, I knew I was in the right, andI knew you were wrong, ' Can't you see, " he asked, "what a falseposition it places me in? Just picture his triumph!"

"He'll be too happy to triumph, " objected Shirley. 

Feeling a little ashamed of his attitude, he said:

"I suppose you think I'm very obstinate. " Then, as she made noreply, he added: "I wish I didn't care what you thought. "

Shirley looked at him gravely for a moment and then she repliedseriously:

"Mr. Ryder, you're a great man--you're a genius--your life is fullof action, energy, achievement. But it appears to be only thegood, the noble and the true that you are ashamed of. When yourmoney triumphs over principle, when your political power defeatsthe ends of justice, you glory in your victory. But when you do akindly, generous, fatherly act, when you win a grand and noblevictory over yourself, you are ashamed of it. It was a kind, generous impulse that has prompted you to save my father and takeyour son and myself to your heart. Why are you ashamed to let himsee it? Are you afraid he will love you? Are you afraid I shalllove you? Open your heart wide to us--let us love you. "

Ryder, completely vanquished, opened his arms and Shirley sprangforward and embraced him as she would have embraced her ownfather. A solitary tear coursed down the financier's cheek. Inthirty years he had not felt, or been touched by, the emotion ofhuman affection. 

The door suddenly opened and Jefferson entered. He started onseeing Shirley in his father's arms. 

"Jeff, my boy, " said the financier, releasing Shirley and puttingher hand in his son's, "I've done something you couldn't do--I'veconvinced Miss Green--I mean Miss Rossmore--that we are not so badafter all!"

Jefferson, beaming, grasped his father's hand. 

"Father!" he exclaimed. 

"That's what I say--father!" echoed Shirley. 

They both embraced the financier until, overcome with emotion, Ryder, Sr. , struggled to free himself and made his escape from theroom crying:

"Good-bye, children--I'm off for Washington!"

THE END

Transcriber's Notes:

The following words used an 'ae' or 'oe' ligature in the original:Croesus, manoeuvre, subpoena, _coeur_, vertebrae, Caesar. 

There were a number of faded/missing letters and some transpositionerrors in the edition this eBook was taken from. The followingcorrections were made:

Chapter headers standardised: V-VII previously had a trailing full-stop. 

Opening quote inserted: "Yes, and it was worth it to him. .. Typo "determinatioin": . .. Arriving at this determination. Opening quote inserted: "Tell me, what do the papers say?"Single quote moved: "You sent him a copy of 'The American Octopus'?"Single quote doubled: . .. Hatred of the hero of your book. "Acute accent inserted: . .. Proceeded to the Hotel de l'Athénée. .. Typo "I'ts": . .. Life to my father. It's no use. .. Quote moved/reversed: . .. Said Shirley decisively. "What is more. .. Closing quote inserted: . .. What account will you be able to give?"Typo "Rosmore": . .. Judge Rossmore--that is by saving him. .. Closing quote inserted: "How?" asked Shirley calmly. Closing quote inserted: "Upon my word--" he said. Opening quote inserted: "The dying father, the sorrowing mother. .. Opening quote inserted: . .. A meddlesome man, " insisted Ryder "and. .. Opening quote inserted: . .. She replied seriously. "Nothing can be. .. Closing quote inserted: . .. A hopeless love?" He approached her. .. Quote moved/reversed: . .. Answered Jefferson embarrassed. "The fact. ..