" Harry went on, "but some of these
people have been difficult. I couldn't throw them into the street when
they promised to pay and--"

"I know, I know," put in Grogan. "It's not about you. Your father's
worried about business. One of these crazy reform waves has started in
Chicago. A vice investigating committee is raising ructions."

"What do you mean by a reform wave? What can a vice investigating
committee have to do with my father?"

"Well, you see," Grogan was picking his words carefully, "your father has
large interests. An investigation of that sort unsettles business."

"What started the reform wave?"

"A girl."

"A what?"

"I said a girl," replied Grogan evenly.

Harry laughed.

"Yes," said Grogan, "they all laughed at her at first, just as you are
doing now. But the joke is beginning to lose its point."

"Who is she?"

"Her name," returned Grogan, "is Mary Randall."

"Mary Randall," repeated Harry. The words meant nothing to him. "Who is
she?"

"I don't know," replied Grogan. "I've never met the lady. That's the
mystery of her and she's keeping it well. She belongs to the Randalls of
Chicago--society folk--that's all I know. But she isn't one of these
Michigan boulevard tea party reformers. They just talk. She goes out and
delivers the goods. She's a fighter."

Harry laughed again. "This is good," he said. "An unknown girl, a society
bud, working single handed stirs up Chicago until she gets all of you
alleged smart politicians worrying. Grogan, I'm going to write a comedy
about that."

"Are you now?" said Grogan. "Well, I don't approve of your idea. It's not
funny. The other night they raided the Baker Club and when they came into
court they had evidence enough to hang them all. This Randall girl had
worked in the club for a month as a waitress and she KNEW."

"Still, Mike, that shouldn't affect father."

"Not directly--no," replied Grogan, again picking his words with care,
"but it gives the whole city an unsteady feeling. People won't invest
their money. If I were in your place, my boy, I'd go home."

"I'm off tomorrow in my new car. Better come with me."

"Make it tonight and I will," replied Grogan.

"You're on," agreed Harry. "We'll go tonight." He surveyed the sky. "It's
going to storm," he said; "but even if it does, unless there's a flood
the roads will be good. We'll go tonight."

CHAPTER VIII

THE DEATH OF TOM