secretary left the room and Mr. Ryder sank comfortably in his
chair, puffing silently at his long black cigar. The financier was
thinking, but his thoughts concerned neither the luckless gas
president he had just pitilessly crushed, nor the detective who
had come to make his report. He was thinking of the book "The
American Octopus," and its bold author whom he was to meet in a
very few minutes. He glanced at the clock. A quarter to three. She
would be here in fifteen minutes if she were punctual, but women
seldom are, he reflected. What kind of a woman could she be, this
Shirley Green, to dare cross swords with a man whose power was
felt in two hemispheres? No ordinary woman, that was certain. He
tried to imagine what she looked like, and he pictured a tall,
gaunt, sexless spinster with spectacles, a sort of nightmare in
the garb of a woman. A sour, discontented creature, bitter to all
mankind, owing to disappointments in early life and especially
vindictive towards the rich, whom her socialistic and even
anarchistical tendencies prompted her to hate and attack. Yet,
withal, a brainy, intelligent woman, remarkably well informed as
to political and industrial conditions--a woman to make a friend
of rather than an enemy. And John Ryder, who had educated himself
to believe that with gold he could do everything, that none could
resist its power, had no doubt that with money he could enlist
this Shirley Green in his service. At least it would keep her from
writing more books about him.

The door opened and Sergeant Ellison entered, followed by the
secretary, who almost immediately withdrew.

"Well, sergeant," said Mr. Ryder cordially, "what have you to tell
me? I can give you only a few minutes. I expect a lady friend of
yours."

The plutocrat sometimes condescended to be jocular with his
subordinates.

"A lady friend of mine, sir?" echoed the man, puzzled.

"Yes--Miss Shirley Green, the author," replied the financier,
enjoying the detective's embarrassment. "That suggestion of yours
worked out all right. She's coming here to-day."

"I'm glad you've found her, sir."

"It was a tough job," answered Ryder with a grimace. "We wrote her
half a dozen times before she was satisfied with the wording of
the invitation. But, finally, we landed her and I expect her at
three o'clock. Now what about that Rossmore girl? Did you go down
to Massapequa?"

"Yes, sir, I have been there half a dozen times. In fact, I've
just com