father was not
insane when he made his will--very kind of them--and that you, his
daughter, may inherit his estates--but----"

"But what?" she demanded anxiously.

The lawyer looked at her in silence. He hesitated to let her know the
worst all at once. Slowly he said:

"Your uncle--is appointed your guardian and custodian during your
minority, and that means he will have complete control of you--and of
your money----"

"My uncle?" she cried in dismay. "Oh, Mr. Ricaby--couldn't you have
prevented that?"

He shook his head. Then, jumping to his feet, and pacing the floor
nervously, he exclaimed angrily:

"How can one man cope with a gang of crooks or break up a well-organized
System? Bascom Cooley, your uncle's lawyer, is a prominent member of the
inner political ring which controls everything. He presented his
petition to a judge who received his appointment from this very
organization. It was a foregone conclusion what the outcome would be.
Now we're no better off than before. The granting of the petition will
give your uncle complete control of your fortune."

Paula looked at him blankly. This was too much. Her patience was almost
exhausted. She had borne everything patiently up to now, but this new
insult went too far. Tears started to her eyes, and, stamping her foot
angrily, she cried:

"He shan't have my father's money to squander how and on whom he
pleases! On that I'm determined. I'll give it away-- I'll-- Oh! surely
something can be done!"

Mr. Ricaby shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm afraid not," he answered. "Your uncle is in the hands of an
unscrupulous gang. He has spent money like water to break the will. His
lawyers resorted to every questionable device under a loosely
constructed legal jurisprudence. Where did the money come from? Your
uncle didn't have it. His marriage to Mrs. Chase--an extravagant widow
with an extravagant son--used up all the money he had. This is Cooley's
venture--and Cooley never goes into anything unless he's sure of
results."

"And they have won!" she exclaimed.

The lawyer nodded.

"They have absolute control of you--and your money----"

"Can't anything be done?" cried the young girl, wringing her hands in
despair. "Can't you do something? Surely I have some rights. Can't you
try?--can't you?"

The lawyer was silent for a moment. Then he said thoughtfully:

"I could retain ex-Senator Wratchett--but he would ask twenty-five
thousand dollars in advance. He's not a