Later in the evening Robert Wharton appeared, as usual, and so
resentful was he at the deceptions previously practised upon him
that Lorelei with difficulty escaped a scene. He declared
positively that he was not to be discouraged; that he proposed to
have his attentions accepted at any cost, even if it became
necessary to use force. He seemed sufficiently drunk to execute
his threat, and his invitation to supper was couched this time
more in the terms of a command. At last he borrowed a stool from
the Judge, who by now was his willing vassal, and planted himself
in the hallway, where he remained throughout the performance--a
gloomy, watchful figure. Lorelei came down boldly, dressed for the
street, and, since she could not pass the besieger, excused
herself briefly. Descending the basement stairs, she crossed under
the stage, made her way into the orchestra-pit, and managed to
leave the theater by the front door.

She was waiting when Jim came home, and followed him into his
room, where they could talk without disturbing their father.
Lorelei made her accusation boldly, prepared for the usual burst
of anger, but Jim listened patiently until she paused.

"I knew you had to spill this, so I let you rave," said he. "But
it's too late; somebody has been after Hammon for a long time, and
he's been got--yes, and got good. Take a flash at THE CHORUS-
GIRL'S BIBLE." He tossed his sister a copy of a prominent
theatrical paper. "I waited until it came out."

Lorelei gasped, for on the front page glared black-typed head-
lines of the Hammon scandal. John Merkle's name was there, too and
linked with it, her own.