and around to the main entrance. Another
moment, and he was at the lattice that separated the reading-room from
the library proper. There, beyond, were the long aisles and rows of
crowded shelves. Here was the customary throng of patrons, returning or
taking out books. There were the busy attendants bustling to and fro,
and beyond them and beyond those vaults and dim recesses was the passage
leading to the sanctum of the head librarian. A young girl, standing
within the lattice, was noting the numbers of some books upon a slip of
card-board, and, with quick decision, Elmendorf addressed her. "Pardon
me," said he, "I have to go into Mr. Wells's office at once. Miss Wallen
has accidentally locked the door, and can't open it. Will you kindly let
me through this way?"

The girl hesitated an instant. It was against orders, but she had often
seen the gentleman in the library and in the sanctum itself with the
librarian. "I suppose it will be all right," said she, doubtfully.

"Oh, certainly," said Elmendorf. "Pardon my haste; I have left some
papers there that I need at once. Ah, thank you." And slipping through
the wicket, he hastened on his way before any one else could interpose,
and in another moment stood within the sanctum and closed the door
behind him.

Nor was he much surprised to find Miss Wallen no longer at her
instrument, but leaning wearily against the casement, apparently gazing
out into the street. "You see," he began, with cold, sarcastic emphasis,
"the power to lock one door does not make a woman the mistress of an
entire situation. It would have been better had you accepted what was
meant for your good and spared me the necessity of forcing it upon you,
as it were; but I have had my own sisters to protect in the past, and
knew what was best for you. Nor am I to be balked in what I consider my
duty by the obstinacy of a moonstruck, passion-blinded girl."

She had turned her back upon him as he began to speak. Now she turned
and faced him. He half expected fierce denunciation, but, to his
surprise, her manner was as contemptuously cool as his was sardonically
cold.

"You have succeeded in getting in here on the plea of business, Mr.
Elmendorf; but this is insolence."

"It is my business, and has ever been and shall ever be, to stand
between the helplessness of the poor and the oppression of the rich. My
business is to see that you and yours suffer no wrong at the hands of
those who consider such as you