s knew that Peter wished him to stay.

"I needn't enlarge on our client--Mr. Feuerstein. You know he's an
actor. You know how they crave notoriety. You know how eager the
newspapers are to take up and make a noise about matters of this kind."

Peter was sweating profusely, and had to seat himself. "It's
outrageous!" he groaned in German.

"Feuerstein has ordered us to have your daughter brought into court at
once--to-morrow. He's your daughter's lawful husband and she's well
beyond the legal age. Of course, he can't compel her to live with him
or you to support him. But he can force the courts to inquire
publicly. And I'm sorry to say we'll not be able to restrain him or
the press, once he gets the ball to rolling."

Peter felt it rolling over him, tons heavy. "What you talk about?" he
said, on his guard but eager.

"It's an outrage that honest men should be thus laid open to attack,"
continued Travis in a sympathetic tone. "But if the law permits these
outrages, it also provides remedies. Your daughter's mistake may cost
you a little something, but there need be no scandal."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Ganser.

"Really, I've talked too much already, Mr. Ganser. I almost forgot,
for the moment, that I'm representing Mr. Feuerstein. But, as between
friends, I'd advise you to go to some good divorce lawyers--a firm that
is reputable but understands the ins and outs of the business, some
firm like Beck and Brown. They can tell you exactly what to do."

Ganser regarded his "friend" suspiciously but credulously. "I'll see,"
he said. "But I won't pay a cent."

"Right you are, sir! And there may be a way out of it without paying.
But Beck can tell you." Travis made a motion toward the inside pocket
of his coat, then pretended to change his mind. "I came here to serve
the papers on you," he said apologetically. "But I'll take the
responsibility of delaying--it can't make Feuerstein any less married,
and your daughter's certainly safe in her father's care. I'll wait in
the hope that YOU'LL take the first step."

Ganser lost no time in going to his own lawyers--Fisher, Windisch and
Carteret, in the Postal Telegraph Building. He told Windisch the whole
story. "And," he ended, "I've got a detective looking up the rascal.
He's a wretch--a black wretch."

"We can't take your case, Mr. Ganser," said Windisch. "It's wholly out
of our line. We don't do that kind of work. I should say Beck and
B