Paula now breathed freely for the first time in weeks. The enemy was utterly routed. Temporarily at least she might reasonably expect to be spared further annoyance. Her uncle, it was true, had control of her fortune, and until she came of age her hands were completely tied. But in another year she would be her own mistress. Then they would be powerless to molest her. Meantime, she devoutly hoped that they would leave her in peace to live her own life as she saw fit.

The excitement and turmoil incidental to the trial having quieted down, affairs at the boarding house soon resumed their normal aspect. Paula became more active daily in her Settlement duties, and was already well known as one of the most prominent and energetic workers in that humane organization. Conspicuous in the public eye as the heiress to a large fortune, the great interest she took in the condition of the poor attracted much attention in the newspapers. They printed her portrait with eulogistic comments, sent reporters to interview her, and printed statements, entirely unauthorized, to the effect that when she came into her inheritance she would devote her millions to the cause of charity. All day long she was busy downtown on her mission of mercy and even at night was frequently called away either to address some socialist gathering or attend a committee meeting.

Mr. Ricaby, ever attentive and devoted, always escorted her on these occasions, not realizing himself, perhaps, that he took keener pleasure in these nocturnal excursions than a legitimate interest in the case would warrant. Paula was grateful for his company, but that was all. For a pretty girl, full of life and sentiment, she was singularly heart whole. Of the deeper passions which disturb other normal healthy girls of her age she seemed entirely free. Men had declared her cold. The opposite sex appeared to have no attraction to her. But this was a mistaken impression. She was not cold. It was simply that the right man had not yet appeared. Certainly, Leon Ricaby with his grave manner and shattered illusions was not her ideal. She found him devoted, but dull. She found no pleasure in his society. Harry Parkes was shallow and impossible. The most interesting man she knew was Tod Chase. He was original and he interested her. His breezy manner and cheerful way of looking at things was just what her own life lacked. His mere presence, his droll utterance, and broad grin dispelled the blues and made her feel happier. She believed, too, that he was a friend. He had not called since her refusal to go and live with her uncle, but she had no reason to believe that he disapproved of her action. Perhaps he was afraid to intrude on her. She had offered to take him down to the slums to show him just how the poor people lived. Any day he might come to claim the promise.

But with all her courage Paula was far from happy. Often she wished that her father had not left her a cent, and that she was back in Paris, copying the old masters in the Louvre. All she had gone through could not have failed to affect her nervous system. She was singularly depressed. Try as she would, she was unable to shake off the idea, which soon became an obsession, that something serious was about to happen, that some catastrophe, compared with which all that had until now occurred were trifles, was hanging over her head. Never so much as now had she realized her utter loneliness and defencelessness. Mr. Ricaby and the Parkes were very kind and sympathetic, but at best they were only acquaintances. She had no real claim upon them. There was apparently nothing to fret about. Her uncle and Bascom Cooley gave no sign of life, yet still she worried. She tried to centre all her attention on her work, but always the silent question arose in her mind: "What is being plotted in the dark?" The uncertainty of suspense unnerved her so much that she was soon rendered unfit for work of any kind.

One evening about two weeks after the ignominious retreat of Messrs. Marsh and Cooley, she was sitting alone with Mr. Ricaby in Mrs. Parkes' parlor. She had been busy at the Settlement all day and returned home so tired that she was glad when, after dinner, the call of her attorney gave her an excuse for not going to a lecture which she had promised to attend.

"What do you think?" she asked anxiously. "Will they leave me alone now?"

The lawyer shook his head ominously:

"You don't know Bascom Cooley. He never admits defeat. Baffled in his attempt to keep you under close control in the Marsh house, he will scheme to gain his ends in some other way. While you are free to come and go as you please you are a hindrance to their plans. Besides, all this newspaper talk about your intention to spend millions on your Settlement work must have made them furious. They will seek other means to coerce you into passive obedience. They are both scoundrels, and there is not the slightest doubt in my mind that they have entered into a conspiracy to make unlawful use of your money. But until they show their hands we can do nothing."

The young girl sighed. Would all this trouble, the plotting and counterplotting, never end? How weary she was of it all! Mr. Ricaby heard the sigh and guessed the reason.

"Don't be discouraged," he said. "It's only the things which are worth having that are worth fighting for. Think of all the good you can do with your money when you get it."

Paula's dark eyes flashed.

"You are right," she murmured. "It is ungrateful of me to fret like this. You are so kind." She hesitated a moment, as if there were something on her mind to which she feared to give utterance. Then timidly she said: "Everything will come out all right, no doubt, but I can't shake off an uncomfortable feeling that there's still more trouble coming. I don't like that man Bascom Cooley. He talks and acts as if he had the power to do anything, even to compelling me by force to do what I don't wish to do." With a little shudder she added: "I had a horrible dream last night."

Mr. Ricaby laughed.

"Come—come, Paula! Don't let this thing take hold of you like that. What was the dream?"

The young girl's large eyes, turned toward him, were dilated with panicky terror. Her pallid face was still paler and the muscles about her sensitive mouth twitched spasmodically. In a low, frightened voice, she went on:

"I dreamed that my uncle came to see me. He said insolently that I must go and live with him. I replied that I would not, and I ordered him from the house. Instead of going, he merely laughed, and, opening the door, beckoned to a man who stood waiting outside. The man entered. He was a gaunt, sinister-looking person, with a cruel mouth and big, hollow, staring eyes that seemed to pierce me through. A sardonic smile was on his face. My uncle pointed at me. 'There she is!' he said. 'Take her away. She's mad.' I gave a scream, and woke up."

Mr. Ricaby laughed outright.

"You must have been eating something which disagreed with you," he said. "Surely you don't allow yourself to be frightened by anything so silly as that?"

Paula nodded.

"It was all so vivid that it seemed true. Suppose——"

She hesitated.

"Suppose what?" he demanded.

"Suppose they did something like that. Suppose they had me declared insane and placed in an asylum? One has read of such things. I think they are capable of anything."

The lawyer looked amused. Laughingly he asked:

"In what age do you think you are living, Paula—in the twentieth century or in the middle ages? Put all such nonsense out of your head. They couldn't do what you suggest unless a medical commission signed papers of commitment, and how could they get them? You'd have no difficulty in proving that you are as sane as they are."

Paula's face brightened. This dream had been haunting her, and she felt a sense of relief that she had been able to confide it to some one.

"I suppose it is foolish," she faltered. "But you know how it is when one gets a fixed idea. It's hard to shake it off."

Mr. Ricaby looked at her in silence, a wistful expression on his face. Had he dared, he would have gone forward and taken her in his arms, telling her hotly that he loved her, and asking her to let him henceforth be her natural protector. But there was no response in the girl's face to the tumult that raged in his own heart. Her thoughts were not of him. He checked the ardent words that rushed to his lips, and, as usual, was silent.

"Won't you have some tea?" she asked carelessly, quite unconscious of what was passing in his mind. Before he could reply there was a sharp rap at the door, which half opened.

"May a fellow come in?" called out a cheerful voice.

The next instant Tod Chase poked his head in the room. Paula rose.

"Come in— I'm very glad to see you," she said, advancing with outstretched hand. The flush of pleasure that covered her cheek was proof enough of the genuineness of her cordiality.

Tod came in, good humored as usual, and with a broad grin on his face. All in one sentence he blurted out:

"Hope I don't intrude—looks kind of cozy in here. Been trying to come round for a week, but our factory's been working overtime these days—greatest rush you ever saw—a fellow's kept on the jump—how have you been? You look just right. Howdy, Mr. Ricaby?"

He stopped to take breath. Paula laughed. It was the first laugh in weeks. It did her good.

"Take a seat, won't you?" she smiled.

Tod laid down his hat and drew up to the little circle.

"I wonder you look at me after what's happened," he said, as he drew off his gloves. "Anybody connected with our branch of the family ought to be kicked. Of course, you understand it isn't my fault. My sympathy is all yours. You see, Jimmy had looked upon this money as his own. He's sore, Cooley's sore, everybody's sore. I don't care a rap myself. I'm making an honest living for the first time in my life. I don't need your money. Why don't they leave you alone? The money's yours—that's all there is to it."

"I suppose you know that they wanted Miss Marsh to go and live at your stepfather's house?" interposed Mr. Ricaby.

Tod nodded.

"Yes—another pipe dream. That was Cooley's suggestion. I heard them talking about it. The day you turned Jimmy down he came home mad as a hornet."

"All I ask is to be let alone," cried Paula.

"Haven't you heard from them since?" inquired Tod.

Mr. Ricaby looked up quickly.

"No—we've heard nothing. What is it—some new nefarious scheme?"

Tod was silent, and looked at Paula. Noticing his hesitation, she was at once filled with apprehension. He had heard something and did not wish to cause her anxiety.

"Tell me," she said quickly, "what do you know of their plans? If you are my friend you will conceal nothing."

"Yes," chimed in Mr. Ricaby. "It would be a kindness to let us know."

Tod looked from one to the other in a perplexed sort of way. Evidently there was something on his mind that troubled him. Finally he said:

"I don't know a thing—honest I don't. They have some idea that I don't approve of their actions, so they tell me nothing. Only——"

Again he hesitated.

"Only what?" said Paula eagerly.

"There's a lot of talk going on," continued Tod. "Cooley's at the house every night, and they have long conferences in the library behind closed doors. Last night my curiosity got the better of my manners. I glued my eye to the keyhole and listened. Jimmy and Cooley were sitting at the table in silent consultation. There was another man present—Dr. Zacharie. You know Dr. Zacharie—the nerve specialist. I think he's a humbug and a charlatan myself, but he gets himself talked about, the women crowd his consulting rooms, and he's making piles of money. Suddenly your name was mentioned. I tried to hear what was said, but they spoke in low tones. Every now and then Cooley turned to Dr. Zacharie and asked something, whereupon the doctor nodded."

Paula looked at Mr. Ricaby.

"What does this mean?" she asked.

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.

"How should I know? I wouldn't pay any attention to it, if I were you. Your uncle can surely have friends at his home without our getting alarmed over it."

"Mr. Ricaby's dead right," burst in Tod. "It's a bally shame that I told you. I wouldn't have said a word if you hadn't pressed me. The meeting probably had nothing to do with you——"

Mr. Ricaby looked thoughtful.

"Birds of a feather flock together. I've known Dr. Zacharie for years. He always had a bad name. One day he will be shown up as the scoundrel that he is. If he's in with Cooley and Jimmy Marsh it's for no good. Still, as Mr. Chase says, it may have nothing whatever to do with us."

Paula shook her head apprehensively.

"I don't know Dr. Zacharie," she said. "But I don't like his name. A chill came over me when I heard it. I'm dreadfully nervous."

Tod seized her hand.

"Now, Miss Marsh—say one word more and I'll go and kill him! Dismiss Zacharie and all the others from your mind. Why—they are not worthy to breathe the same air as you. If you don't brighten up and forget all about them I'll do something desperate. Anyhow, I came here to-night on a desperate errand. It was to remind you of a promise."

"A promise—what promise?"

"Didn't you say that you would take me down to the slums one day?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well, I'm ready to go. When shall it be?"

The young girl hesitated a moment. Then she said:

"To-morrow's an interesting day. There are classes at the Settlement home and house visits among the poor." Holding up a finger, she added warningly: "Mind, it isn't exactly fun. You'll see a new phase of life, something you do not know—the appalling misery and sordid wretchedness of a great, careless city."

"That's immense!" cried Tod, rising enthusiastically. "I'll come for you to-morrow. What time?"

"About eleven o'clock," she smiled.