nd's offices intent
on obtaining a renewal of his lease to the Cafe Sinister. During that
entire month he had never been able to obtain even a word with the master
financier. Boland had purposely refused to grant the interview so
frequently requested by Druce not because he had any repugnance against
doing business with the dive keeper but because to his mind there had
never appeared any good reason why he should grant that interview. He
played the waiting game with Druce because he had found by profitable
experience that the waiting game paid John Boland best. The time might
come when he would be able to use so excellent a tool as Druce to its
best advantage. Boland was waiting calmly for that time. If Druce
suffered in the interim John Boland was unable to see how that was any of
his concern. In fact, Boland figured, the more Druce suffered, the keener
a tool he would be for his purposes.

Druce guessed something of this. He too possessed a mind adapted to
intrigue. Therefore every rebuff from Boland found him undaunted. He knew
that his time must come. He called at Boland's offices again and again,
smiling always in the face of denial.

Of late a new incentive for calling at the Electric Trust's offices had
developed for Druce. This was furnished by Miss Masters. The girl's
charming looks had aroused the man's curiosity and cunning. Her air of
worldly wisdom, her alternate repulses and advances, had stirred him as
he had rarely been stirred before. In his eagerness to possess her he
almost lost sight of the main object of his visits.

But whether by accident or design Druce was never able to get a word with
the girl alone. She was always, save on the sole occasion of his last
visit, either engaged with Harry Boland's dictation, or, if in the outer
office, chaperoned by Harry Boland's red-headed office boy. One day Druce
met Red in the lower corridor of the Electric Trust building. The boy
grinned knowingly at him and yelled as he hurried by.

"I'll be back in a minute."

"Don't hurry on my account," answered Druce, but at the moment it came to
him that Red's chaperonage of Miss Masters might not be entirely
accidental.

Druce stepped into the elevator and was let out at the Electric Trust's
offices. He entered and found the offices empty.

"Hang the little fool," he said, "she doesn't know which side her bread
is--"

"Meaning whom?" inquired Miss Masters' saccharine voice.

Druce turned quickly and saw Mis