the desk ready to his hand.

The curiosity of the secretary could not be longer delayed.

"What did they do with the Turner girl?" she inquired in an elaborately
casual manner.

Gilder did not look up from the heap of papers, but answered rather
harshly, while once again his expression grew forbidding.

"I don't know--I couldn't wait," he said. He made a petulant gesture as
he went on: "I don't see why Judge Lawlor bothered me about the matter.
He is the one to impose sentence, not I. I am hours behind with my work
now."

For a few minutes he gave himself up to the routine of business,
distributing the correspondence and other various papers for the action
of subordinates, and speaking his orders occasionally to the attentive
secretary with a quickness and precision that proclaimed the capable
executive. The observer would have realized at once that here was a
man obviously fitted to the control of large affairs. The ability that
marches inevitably to success showed unmistakably in the face and form,
and in the fashion of speech. Edward Gilder was a big man physically,
plainly the possessor of that abundant vital energy which is a prime
requisite for achievement in the ordering of modern business concerns.
Force was, indeed, the dominant quality of the man. His tall figure was
proportionately broad, and he was heavily fleshed. In fact, the body was
too ponderous. Perhaps, in that characteristic might be found a clue
to the chief fault in his nature. For he was ponderous, spiritually and
mentally, as well as materially. The fact was displayed suggestively in
the face, which was too heavy with its prominent jowls and aggressive
chin and rather bulbous nose. But there was nothing flabby anywhere.
The ample features showed no trace of weakness, only a rude, abounding
strength. There was no lighter touch anywhere. Evidently a just man
according to his own ideas, yet never one to temper justice with mercy.
He appeared, and was, a very practical and most prosaic business man. He
was not given to a humorous outlook on life. He took it and himself with
the utmost seriousness. He was almost entirely lacking in imagination,
that faculty which is essential to sympathy.

"Take this," he directed presently, when he had disposed of the matters
before him. Forthwith, he dictated the following letter, and now his
voice took on a more unctuous note, as of one who is appreciative of his
own excellent generosity.

"THE EDITOR,

"