keep the tacit tryst at the little nocturnal
cafe. Frank saw her at the Techau, at Zinkand's, the St. Germain, with
the kind of men that make love to actresses. She knew all about the
stock market and politics, for some of Ruef's new Supervisors were among
her swains. Once or twice, as the jargon of the journals has it, she had
"tipped off" a story to Frank.

She said at last, "I'll tell you something ... but you mustn't print it:
This new city government is running wild.... They're scheming to hold up
the town. They've made a list of all the corporations--the United
Railways, the telephone company.... Everyone that wants a favor of the
city must pay high. The man who told me this said that his share will
total $30,000. Ruef and Schmitz will probably be millionaires."

"But how's it to be done? They're being watched, you know. They've lots
of enemies. Bribery would land them in the penitentiary."

The girl leaned forward. "Ah, this isn't ordinary bribery. Anyone that
wants a franchise or a license hires Ruef as his attorney. They say he
gets as high at $10,000 for a retaining fee ... and they expect to clean
the street car company out of a quarter million."

Prank stared. "Why--in God's name!--did he tell you this?"

"He loves me." There was something like defiance in her answer. "He
wants me to accompany him to Europe--when he gets the coin. He says it
won't be long."

"So"--Frank was a little nonplussed--"he wants you to marry him?"

"No," the girl's face reddened. "No, I can't ... he's got a wife."

For a moment there was silence. Then. "What did you tell the--hound,
Aleta?"

"He's not a hound," she said evenly. "The wife won't care. She runs with
other men...." Her eyes would not meet Frank's. "I--haven't answered."

"But--your mother!"

"Mother's mind is gone," Aleta answered, bitterly. "She doesn't even
recognize me now.... But she's happy." Her laugh rang, mirthless.

"Aleta," he said, sternly, "do you love this man?"

"No," she said and stared at him. "I--I--"

"What?"

"I love another--if you must know all about it."

"Can't you--marry _him?_ Is he too poor?" asked Stanley.

"Poor?" Her eyes were stars; "that wouldn't matter. No, he's not my
sort...."

"Does he know?"

"No," Aleta answered, hastily. "No, he doesn't ... and he never will."

* * * * *

Frank told his father something of the conversation.

"Its an open secret," said Francisco, "that Ruef an