on Druce's face, but he only said pointedly:

"I always make good when a man delivers the goods. Now get out--I'm
busy."

"On my way," returned Druce easily, as he sauntered to the door, but he
turned there, saying significantly:

"I'll deliver the goods,--don't worry."

John Boland sighed contentedly as he watched Druce go. Then he muttered:

"There, I guess I--"

"All right, Mr. Boland," rang out a clear feminine voice, as Miss Masters
came from the inner office. "That contract is all ready."

"Oh, Miss Masters!"

"Yes, Mr. Boland," she replied in saccharine tones.

"Make out a lease for that property in South Twelfth street."

"For the Cafe Sinister, John?" inquired Michael Grogan, who had followed
Miss Masters into the main office. "You're crazy."

"Oh, shut up, Mike," snapped Boland. "What ails you, anyway?"

"I've been reading the last edition," replied Grogan, lugubriously. "Mary
Randall has had special officers sworn in at her own expense to help her
make raids. She's put goose flesh all over me."

"Let me see it."

Boland took the paper which Grogan was fingering nervously.

"Take it," said the Irishman. "It's a live coal."

The other glanced over the sheet and threw it on the desk.

"Get busy on that lease, Miss Masters," he commanded.

"Just a moment, Governor," interrupted Harry, who had overheard the
conversation as he came in. "If you lease that property to that hound,
Anson, you and I are through."

"What?" exclaimed John Boland, astounded.

"It has come to a show-down," went on Harry, with determination expressed
in both his tone and manner, "and I'm damned if I'll touch a cent of
dirty money like that."

"You've been reading the Mary Randall stuff, eh?" sneered his father.

"Yes. And she's right. Now, you make your choice."

"Hold on--hold on," commanded the irate father. "Aren't you forgetting
that I own and control this Lake City Company--that you are--"

"No! I realize that," retorted Harry, resolutely.

"All right!" Boland turned to Miss Masters grimly: "Make out that lease
to Anson."

"Then here," said Harry quietly, as he wrote a few words on a sheet of
blank paper and laid it on the desk; "here is my resignation as president
of your Electrical Company, to take effect _now_."

"Harry!" protested his father.

"I'll get my personal things together at once," went on the young man,
securing his hat from the rack.

"This has gone far enough," rasped John Boland, spri