esponsible and efficient, and talk such rubbish...As
he got up to go the lawyer detained him to add: "Of course there's no
immediate cause for alarm. It will take time to enforce the provision
of the Dakota decree in New York, and till it's done your son can't
be taken from you. But there's sure to be a lot of nasty talk in the
papers; and you're bound to lose in the end."

Ralph thanked him and left.

He sped northward to the Malibran, where he learned that Mr. and Mrs.
Spragg were at dinner. He sent his name down to the subterranean
restaurant, and Mr. Spragg presently appeared between the limp portieres
of the "Adam" writing-room. He had grown older and heavier, as if
illness instead of health had put more flesh on his bones, and there
were greyish tints in the hollows of his face.

"What's this about Paul?" Ralph exclaimed. "My mother's had a message we
can't make out."

Mr. Spragg sat down, with the effect of immersing his spinal column in
the depths of the arm-chair he selected. He crossed his legs, and swung
one foot to and fro in its high wrinkled boot with elastic sides.

"Didn't you get a letter?" he asked.

"From my--from Undine's lawyers? Yes." Ralph held it out. "It's queer
reading. She hasn't hitherto been very keen to have Paul with her."

Mr. Spragg, adjusting his glasses, read the letter slowly, restored it
to the envelope and gave it back. "My daughter has intimated that she
wishes these gentlemen to act for her. I haven't received any additional
instructions from her," he said, with none of the curtness of tone that
his stiff legal vocabulary implied.

"But the first communication I received was from you--at least from Mrs.
Spragg."

Mr. Spragg drew his beard through his hand. "The ladies are apt to be a
trifle hasty. I believe Mrs. Spragg had a letter yesterday instructing
her to select a reliable escort for Paul; and I suppose she thought--"

"Oh, this is all too preposterous!" Ralph burst out, springing from his
seat. "You don't for a moment imagine, do you--any of you--that I'm
going to deliver up my son like a bale of goods in answer to any
instructions in God's world?--Oh, yes, I know--I let him go--I
abandoned my right to him...but I didn't know what I was doing...I was
sick with grief and misery. My people were awfully broken up over the
whole business, and I wanted to spare them. I wanted, above all, to
spare my boy when he grew up. If I'd contested the case you know what
the resu