decided it was best to say nothing of his previous evening's
experiences, but he had asked where young Jimmy Stiles was working now
and learned that the bookkeeper was with the Alderson Construction
Company. It was one of Nickleby's "mushroom" concerns and apparently
Nathaniel Lawson did not have much respect for any side-line enterprise
in which Mr. Nickleby was interested. Phil smiled as he jotted down
the address. Nobody who had heard the Lawson side of the situation
could blame him for that attitude.

So Stiles worked for the Alderson Construction Company, eh?--the
concern that was mixed up in that campaign fund contribution that had
been stolen. Question: Had Jimmy Stiles been forced by Nickleby
to----? No, that was not tenable because Nickleby would not be trying
to steal from himself. Well, he'd soon get the hang of things when he
went to see Stiles. It was going to be an interesting little pow-wow
with that young man.

Kendrick idly watched the smoke from his cigar sail towards the long
box of geraniums on the sill of the open window. He whistled to the
canary that swung in a brass cage above the foliage. Then his glance
wandered about the room, over the bookcases, the bric-a-brac on the
mantel, the----

He sat up in his chair rather suddenly. He stood up and hastily
crossed the room for a closer look at a large, attractive photo which
hung above the mantel in a silver frame--the photo of a beautiful young
woman in a summer dress. The face was unmistakable. He was gazing at
the photo of the stenographer in Blatch Ferguson's office--the girl who
had listened at the keyhole, who had met Stiles in the park last night
and had been attacked by the two strangers, who had taken so much
trouble to get rid of her escort by the ruse of the boarding-house!
The elaborate coiffure was missing; but those beautiful classic
features were the same.

He turned as Lawson entered the room, stepping slowly and carefully,
with a tray and two goblets which tinkled with ice.

"I was just admiring that photo in the silver frame, Mr. Lawson. It is
a remarkably fine piece of photography. The tones are wonderful.
Would you consider it rude if I asked who the young lady is?"

Nat Lawson slowly deposited the tray and chuckled to himself.
Unconsciously he raised his head proudly.

"That is my daughter, sir,--my daughter, Cristy. I'm sorry that just
now she is not at home."

CHAPTER XIII

AND CONVERTS A GOAL