Mr. Ricaby entered the room hurriedly. His face was serious and his manner agitated. Paula advanced eagerly to meet him.

"Bad news!" he began. "That which I feared has happened."

The young girl turned pale.

"You mean that we have lost?"

The lawyer sank wearily into a chair, and in a tone of utter discouragement went on:

"Yes—we've lost! I did all I could. The court allows that you were born in wedlock—oh, yes—that much they admit. Also that your father was not insane when he made his will—very kind of them—and that you, his daughter, may inherit his estates—but——"

"But what?" she demanded anxiously.

The lawyer looked at her in silence. He hesitated to let her know the worst all at once. Slowly he said:

"Your uncle—is appointed your guardian and custodian during your minority, and that means he will have complete control of you—and of your money——"

"My uncle?" she cried in dismay. "Oh, Mr. Ricaby—couldn't you have prevented that?"

He shook his head. Then, jumping to his feet, and pacing the floor nervously, he exclaimed angrily:

"How can one man cope with a gang of crooks or break up a well-organized System? Bascom Cooley, your uncle's lawyer, is a prominent member of the inner political ring which controls everything. He presented his petition to a judge who received his appointment from this very organization. It was a foregone conclusion what the outcome would be. Now we're no better off than before. The granting of the petition will give your uncle complete control of your fortune."

Paula looked at him blankly. This was too much. Her patience was almost exhausted. She had borne everything patiently up to now, but this new insult went too far. Tears started to her eyes, and, stamping her foot angrily, she cried:

"He shan't have my father's money to squander how and on whom he pleases! On that I'm determined. I'll give it away— I'll— Oh! surely something can be done!"

Mr. Ricaby shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm afraid not," he answered. "Your uncle is in the hands of an unscrupulous gang. He has spent money like water to break the will. His lawyers resorted to every questionable device under a loosely constructed legal jurisprudence. Where did the money come from? Your uncle didn't have it. His marriage to Mrs. Chase—an extravagant widow with an extravagant son—used up all the money he had. This is Cooley's venture—and Cooley never goes into anything unless he's sure of results."

"And they have won!" she exclaimed.

The lawyer nodded.

"They have absolute control of you—and your money——"

"Can't anything be done?" cried the young girl, wringing her hands in despair. "Can't you do something? Surely I have some rights. Can't you try?—can't you?"

The lawyer was silent for a moment. Then he said thoughtfully:

"I could retain ex-Senator Wratchett—but he would ask twenty-five thousand dollars in advance. He's not as good a lawyer as Cooley, but he has more pull." Excitedly he went on: "Ah! that's what we want, Paula—political pull! My God! What a farce life is! When I was a minister of the Gospel I was a dreamer, howling for purity and truth. Now I'm awake, with my feet on the earth. I'm praying for a liar and a trickster to come and help us out—and cursing myself because I haven't the money to buy him——"

"Twenty-five thousand dollars!" she echoed helplessly. With a bitter laugh she went on: "I pawned my last ring this morning to pay Mrs. Parkes the money I owed her. You gave the Judge the whole history of the case—you told him how my uncle has deliberately stood in the way of my getting my rights for two years—you told him that he is my worst enemy?"

"Yes—everything."

"And yet he appointed him my custodian and guardian?"

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. Dryly he replied:

"He belongs to the same political organization as Cooley. In this State," he went on, "in order to get the nomination, a judge or his friends are expected to contribute a large sum of money to the campaign fund—the idea is that he owes something to the men who pay that money for him, that he must show some gratitude to those who nominate and elect him—fine ethics, eh? I think I'll go back to the pulpit——"

"Can my uncle compel me to live with him?" demanded Paula.

"Yes," he replied. "I'm afraid so."

The girl jumped up, her hands clenched, her face flushed with anger. Hotly she cried:

"I won't—I won't—live with him! I hate that vulgar, showy woman—his wife! She sneered at me in court because I cried when they said my father drank himself to death. I hate that foolish, giggling son of hers—I hate them all! They've spoiled my life, they've robbed me of the joy of youth. I'm old before my time! My God! I'm not twenty, and I feel worn out. It's a shame the abominable way they've hounded me, but I won't give in—I won't——"

"Come, come, Paula," said the lawyer soothingly. "I feel just as badly as you do about it—I——"

He stopped abruptly and looked out of the window.

Paula watched him in silence. Something within told her that if this man felt bitter under defeat, it was more for her sake than for his own.

"Go on," she said, more gently.

"I don't see that we can do anything more just now," he continued. "The fact is, I'm a bit bewildered. I'm simply stunned!" Hesitatingly, he went on: "I feel I'm to blame to a certain extent. I don't think I quite understand my profession. There are so many laws—so many loopholes to evade the law—so many ramifications—so many interpretations. It's all law—law—law—nothing but law—the question of equity and justice is completely lost sight of in the chaos of procedure—the letter of the law is there, but the spirit is wanting!"

Sitting down, he buried his face in his hands, the picture of utter discouragement.

Paula approached and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Mr. Ricaby," she said kindly. "You've done your best, but just think! To be compelled to live with my uncle, the man who destroyed my father's memory, who reviled my mother! Oh, it's—it's monstrous! No, they shan't compel me—I defy them—I defy the law! What do you advise?"

The lawyer shook his head.

"You will gain nothing by openly defying them," he said. "When in doubt—wait! Meantime I'll go and see ex-Senator Wratchett. Perhaps I can interest him in our behalf. I'll move Heaven and earth to get him—set a thief to catch a thief, eh? Oh, it's a glorious game! God knows I've tried to be fair!"

They were so busy talking that they did not hear a timid knock on the door. Mrs. Parkes put her head in.

"A gentleman to see Miss Marsh!" she said, holding out a card.

Paula's face brightened and then grew serious as she caught sight of the name on the bit of pasteboard.

"It's Mr. Chase," she said, turning to the lawyer. "He hasn't been here for an age. I'm surprised he has called so soon after the rendering of the decision. Do you think I should receive him?"

Mrs. Parkes seemed surprised that there should be any question about it.

"He came in a beautiful motor car!" she exclaimed. "Oh, what a magnificent machine! Royal blue color and such a handsome uniform the chauffeur has——"

Mr. Ricaby frowned. He had never approved of this friendship with a young man whose motives he had reason to suspect very strongly. His calling so soon after the verdict was certainly not in the best of taste. It was more than likely that he was a spy sent by the ingenious Mr. Cooley to ferret out their plan of action. Mr. Chase had been very amiable and attentive to them in Paris and during the voyage home, but all that might be only part of the game. On the other hand, if it was a prearranged plan it would work both ways. With a little careful maneuvering they, too, might be able to find out from Tod what new tack the enemy was working on. So, on second thoughts, it might be well to encourage his visits.

"Tell him to come up," he said to the landlady.

Mrs. Parkes bounced out, and a moment later Tod entered.

"I hope I don't intrude," was his cheery greeting.

"Not at all," replied Paula, somewhat coldly. "Won't you sit down?" she said.

He took a seat and drew off his gloves. Affably, he said:

"Thanks—yes. I'll even take a cup of tea if you'll ask me. When I once get started on a proposition I go right round the course—even with a punctured tire." Turning to the lawyer, he went on: "Say, Mr. Ricaby—I just heard that the case has gone against you. That's fierce! I've come to have a little family talk-fest."

He stopped and looked at his hostess and the lawyer. Both remained silent and non-committal. With a shrug of his shoulders, he continued:

"No answer? Well, then, I'll talk to myself, and you can listen till you feel like joining in——"

"Are you here at the request of your stepfather?" interrupted Mr. Ricaby coldly.

The young man gave him a look that was intended to be withering. Instinctively he knew that Mr. Ricaby was no friend of his, and perhaps he guessed the reason. But he did not come to see the lawyer. He liked Paula and was sincerely sorry for her. He did not propose to be bluffed out of his newly made friendship by the unreasonable suspicion of a jealous rival. Sharply he retorted:

"No. I am here at my own request. I'm sorry for this little girl. I saw her in court several times when they were trying to break the will, and my heart went out to her. I want to help her. Oh, I know I don't look like anybody's friend. I'm fat—I'm selfish—and I love myself to distraction—and all that, but—I give you my word I felt sorry for her. I'll never forget her face the day she testified. Gee whiz! Cooley laid it onto Uncle John—your father I mean—didn't he? It wasn't right—I felt sorry, and I told Jimmy so. Miss Marsh, believe it or not—I'm here to express myself as thoroughly disgusted with the methods my folks have employed to get Uncle John's money."

"Why do you call my father Uncle John?" demanded Paula haughtily.

"I got your Uncle Jimmy when he married my mother," laughed Tod, "and I take everything that goes with him—including Uncle John and you—I don't see why I shouldn't have the nice things, too."

"Thank you," she answered, trying to suppress a smile.

Tod grinned.

"I understand you're coming to live with us?" he said.

Paula's face darkened again.

"Am I?" she said frigidly.

"Cooley says so," he went on, "and Jimmy seconded the motion, so I thought I'd come ahead—and sort of break the ice, as it were. I told mother and she said it wasn't a bad idea—for me—and here I am. You are coming, aren't you? It'll be awfully jolly for me. Please say yes—one plunge and it's all over."

Paula was forced to laugh in spite of herself. Then recalling suddenly his attitude at the trial, she demanded:

"Why did you laugh in court when they said my father was a drunkard?"

"Laugh?" he exclaimed. "I couldn't help it. All that Cooley was able to prove was that your father drank a quart of champagne at dinner, now and then. Why, I do that myself—even when I'm out of training! One quart? Why, it's pitiful! I'm laughing yet, but understand, I was laughing for you—not against you."

She turned away her head so he should not see she was smiling. But he was not slow to note the advance he was making, and, thus encouraged, he went on:

"Another—and perhaps the real reason why I came—and this is on the level—I'm responsible for this whole state of affairs."

Mr. Ricaby looked up in surprise.

"You?" he exclaimed.

"Yes," continued Tod, rising to go. "My mother married Jimmy because she wanted money. You know she's very extravagant, and I'm her chief extravagance. I run up bills and she pays 'em. We've both got the habit. Well, you see, if it wasn't for my debts, she wouldn't have married Jimmy and he probably wouldn't have tried to get his brother's estate. So you see it's all my fault. I'm the black sheep—the others are only dark-brown. But I'm going to do what's right from this out. To begin with, I'm going to turn my new eight-thousand-dollar car over to you."

"Why should you do that?" demanded Paula.

The young man chuckled as he replied:

"I got the cash on a note endorsed by mother, and Jimmy will have to pay it out of your money. It's your money that bought the car—so you take it—but I'll run it for you. It's a dandy. Just romps up the hills. I can squeeze seventy out of it. It's downstairs now. Say, Miss Marsh, come down and take a look at it——"

She shook her head.

"No—thank you all the same."

He looked at her with an injured expression.

"I give you my word of honor," he said, "I want to do what is right. Jimmy and mother always regarded Uncle John's money as theirs and I unconsciously fell into line. But I've woke up—I withdraw from the contest. I'm out of it—so we can be good friends—but—take my advice and watch Jimmy and keep your eyes on Cooley. You know Cooley cooks up all sorts of schemes for Jimmy, and Cooley isn't exactly working for charity. I don't like Cooley. He's too sharp. Of course, a lawyer ought to be sharp, but Cooley is almost too deuced sharp—one of these days he'll cut himself." As he made a move towards the door, he said: "You will come, won't you? When shall I say you're coming?"

He stopped to hear her answer, but none came. There was an embarrassing silence. Mr. Ricaby, who was walking nervously up and down the room, suddenly turned on the young man, and, looking him squarely in the face, said:

"You really wish to do what is right?"

"Yes," answered Tod promptly.

"Then tell the whole truth," said the lawyer, raising his voice, "how much are you to receive if you succeed in persuading Miss Marsh to accept her uncle's guardianship without protest?"

The young man answered the older man's steady gaze unflinchingly. If he was playing the role of a spy certainly his face did not betray it. With perfect sangfroid, he answered:

"This is unworthy of you. Yet I don't blame you for suspecting me. It was like this—I told them they didn't know how to handle women——"

"And you do?" laughed Paula.

"Well," replied Tod, his chest inflated with self-importance, "I've had a little experience with women. But I didn't promise to tell you the truth about that. I said to Jimmy and Cooley: Kindness—that's the idea—kindness. Don't jerk at her mouth. Hold the rein loose. Treat women and horses alike. Women and horses—the noblest creatures in God's creation. Leave her to me, I said—you see I wanted to get well acquainted with you—I'm interested—really I am."

"Indeed!" laughed Paula satirically. "I ought to feel quite complimented."

Tod broke out into a hearty laugh. Pointing gleefully at his hostess, he cried:

"Ha! ha! The ice is cracking. Miss Marsh—I warn you—you're warming up!"

Paula was about to make retort when the door opened and Harry Parkes appeared. He nodded stiffly to Tod and approached the lawyer.

"Mr. Ricaby," he said, "your office is calling you on the telephone."

The lawyer immediately excused himself and hurried out of the room. There was an awkward silence. Tod looked at Harry and the latter looked at Tod. Both rivals for the lady's good graces, neither seemed disposed to leave the field free for the other.

"Well—I suppose I'd better go——" growled Tod finally. Holding out his hand to Paula, he said: "May I report progress?" Seeing her smile and thinking he might be able to get the best of the other fellow after all, he went on: "My car is downstairs. Won't you come down and look it over?"

"Thank you, so——" she replied.

"Just a spin round the park," he pleaded. "I can do it in fifteen minutes. It's all right, you know. The speed limit don't go with me at all—I know all the policemen. You see Jimmy is running strong with the chief—and whatever we say, goes."

Paula laughed merrily.

"I'm afraid I can't accept your invitation, even with the special inducement of being able to break the law with impunity."

"Sorry. Well, good-bye—I'm off." His manner lost its flippancy, and there was genuine feeling in his voice as he added: "Good-bye, Miss Marsh. Whatever happens I'm really and truly glad I had this chat with you, but I'm afraid I did most of the talking. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Mr. Chase," she said, extending her hand.

The door closed and Paula returned slowly to the table.

"A curious boy," she murmured, more to herself than to her companion. "I rather like him."

"Do you?" exclaimed Harry blankly, looking at her over his gold eyeglasses. Awkwardly he went on: "I'm glad he's gone. I wanted to say something to you. Miss Marsh—I—I've thought it all over——"

Paula resumed her seat and took up a book.

"Now, Harry," she laughed, "you're going to propose again. I can see it in your face. Please don't. There's a good boy."

"I was only going to say," he stammered, "that the name of Parkes is at your disposal."

"That's very kind, but——"

"Fifteen hundred a year—no encumbrances—unlimited prospects——"

She looked up at him, much amused.

"It sounds a little like a real estate advertisement. But, seriously, Harry—don't—don't—can't you see I've no time for such nonsense? I'm driven almost to distraction. I owe Mr. Ricaby so much money. He has almost ruined himself for me. He has worked day and night on this case—neglected all his law practice. I hear him coming now. Perhaps he has some news."

There were sounds of hurried footsteps. The door opened, and the lawyer entered hurriedly. He looked flurried as if something important had happened. Turning to Harry, he said quickly:

"Will you excuse us a moment?"

"Certainly—certainly——" said the young man.

With a side glance at Paula, he went out, closing the door. Mr. Ricaby quickly approached Paula. Laboring under some excitement, he said:

"Your uncle demands an interview with you. I told him you refused to go to him."

"Quite right! Go to him indeed!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"He and Mr. Cooley are now at my office. They want to come here to see you."

"I won't see them," she cried.

"Perhaps it would be good policy," said the lawyer thoughtfully.

"No," she retorted emphatically. "I won't see them."

"Yes, Paula," said the lawyer kindly, but firmly, "they can keep up this legal battle for years—as long as they choose—until we're exhausted and most of the money we're fighting for is expended in fees and costs. Cooley will never give up—and we can't go on without money. Something might be gained by meeting them halfway." He hesitated a moment and then went on: "Cooley told me over the telephone just now that he had new evidence. He could prove that his client had a partnership with his brother, and was entitled to half——"

"He can prove anything," she cried contemptuously. "I refuse to degrade myself by a compromise. It shall be all or nothing."

Nervous and agitated, Mr. Ricaby strode up and down the room. He was advising the girl for the best. He had experience in these matters. Well he knew the law's terrible delays, and even then the result was uncertain.

"If you fight them," he said, "it means more costly litigation. I may be able to get Wratchett, but I'm not sure that he'll fight Cooley. They're such strong political cronies. You've nothing to lose by holding out the olive branch, and much to gain. Really, Paula, it's better for you to see them. I am so sure about it that I told them to come over."

With a gesture of discouragement Paula sank down in a chair.

"God knows I'm as tired of the struggle as you are, Mr. Ricaby," she cried, "but I hate to give up. I know you're advising me for the best—yes—I'll be guided by you—I will see them—and—and yield as gracefully as I can, but it seems hard, very hard. When will they come?"

"In a few minutes," replied the lawyer.