his fate, and bear Irma Gluyas away to farther and fairer lands.

The long morning dragged on in a semi-stupor as he sat there
listening to the hollow footfall of the casual passers-by.

And yet there was no word from Madame Raffoni, the only holder of
the secret of Irma Gluyas' life. His foot was on the threshhold to
leave at last, when Arthur Ferris calmly entered.

Randall Clayton mastered himself with a mighty effort, as Ferris
glibly murmured, "I am only here for a few moments! Come into the
private office."

The few minutes before they were at their ease in Robert Wade's
impregnable sanctum enabled Clayton to steel himself against the
secret bridegroom's duplicity. Clayton's quick eye noted Ferris'
satchel, his top-coat and umbrella carelessly thrown down on Wade's
reading-table.

"Have you been at the rooms?" carelessly remarked Clayton, tossing
Ferris' private keys upon the table. "No," curtly replied Ferris.
"I came here directly from the train. I wished to stop and see my
mother and sister; but Wade's illness has upset all my plans.

"I have to go on to Philadelphia at once on some private business
for the Chief. You know he is a very heavy stockholder in the Cramp
Shipbuilding Company. I will not be back for several days."

"And what about the election?" deliberately replied Clayton, now
anxious to draw his enemy out. "I have nothing to do with that,"