the tears flooding to his eyes. "Poor old dad!" He turned and walked
to the window, his shoulders heaving. Droom stood silent for a long
time, watching Bansemer's son, pity and triumph in his face.

"Do you want to hear about it?" he asked at last. Graydon's head
was bent in assent.

"It came the day after you left Chicago with the recruits. I knew
you would not read the newspapers. So did he. Harbert swore out
the papers and he was arrested here in this office. I believe he
would have killed himself if he had been given time. His revolver
was--er--not loaded. Before the officers came he discharged me.
I was at liberty to go or to testify against him. I did neither.
Of course, I was arrested, but they could only prove that I was a
clerk who knew absolutely nothing about the inside workings of the
office. I offered to go on his bond but he would not have me. He
made some arrangement, through his attorney, and bail was secured.
In spite of the fact that he was charged with crime, he insisted on
keeping these offices and trying to do business. It wasn't because
he needed money, Graydon, but because he wanted to lead an honest
life, he said. He has a great deal of money, let me tell you. The
grand jury indicted him last spring but the trial did not come up
until last month--nearly a year later--so swift is justice in this
city. In the meantime, I saw but little of him. I was working on
an invention and, besides, there were detectives watching every
movement I made. I stuck close to my rooms. By the way, I want to
show you a couple of models I have perfected. Don't let me forget
it. They--"

"Yes, yes--but father? Go on!"