w," he said. "Wait--until you have heard me."

Something in his cold, passionless voice stopped Philip. He saw Gregson
glance toward MacDougall, and understood what he meant. Going to the
engineer, he placed a hand on his shoulder, and spoke so that only he
could hear.

"She is in there, Mac--with Pierre. She wanted to be alone with him for
a few minutes. Will you wait for her--outside--at the door, and take
her over to Cassidy's wife? Tell her that I will come to her in a
little while."

He followed MacDougall to the door, speaking to him in a low voice, and
then turned to Gregson. The artist had seated himself at one side of
the small office table, and Philip sat down opposite him, holding out
his hand to him again.

"What is the matter, Greggy?"

"This is not a time for long explanations," said the artist, still
holding back his hand. "They can come later, Phil. But
to-night--now--you must understand why I cannot shake hands with you.
We have been friends for a good many years. In a few minutes we will be
enemies--or you will be mine. One thing, before I go on, I must ask of
you. I demand it. Whatever passes between us during the next ten
minutes, say no word against Eileen Brokaw. I will say what you might
say--that for a time her soul wandered, and was almost lost. But it has
come back to her, strong and pure. I love her. Some strange fate has
ordained that she should love me, worthless as I am. She is to be my
wife."

Philip's hand was still across the table.

"Greggy--Greggy--God bless you!" he cried, softly. "I know what it is
to love, and to be loved. Why should I be your enemy because Eileen
Brokaw's heart has turned to gold, and she has given it to you? Greggy,
shake!"

"Wait," said Gregson, huskily. "Phil, you are breaking my heart.
Listen. You got my note? But I did not desert you so abominably. I made
a discovery that last night of yours in Churchill. I went to Eileen
Brokaw, and to-morrow--some time--if you care I will tell you of all
that happened. First you must know this. I have found the 'power' that
is fighting you down below. I have found the man who is behind the plot
to ruin your company, the man who is responsible for Thorpe's crimes,
the man who is responsible--for--that--in--there."

He leaned across the table and pointed to the closed door.

"And that man--"

For a moment he seemed to choke.

"Is Brokaw, the father of my affianced wife!"

"Good God!" cried Philip. "Gregson, a