! The police will have to call time
on me to make sure I'm not obstructing the traffic. But, Esme--"

"Well?"

Kathleen caught her hand and snuggled it up to her childishly. "How
often do you see Hal Surtaine?"

"You ought to know. There's something going on every evening now. And he
goes everywhere."

"Yes: but outside of that?"

Esme laughed. "How hard you're working to make a romance that isn't
there. I go to his office once in a while, just to see the wheels go
'round."

"And are you going to the office now?"

"No," said Esme, after consideration. "Hal Surtaine is coming here. This
evening."

"You have an appointment with him?"

"Not yet. I'll telephone him."

"Father telephoned him, but he wouldn't come to see father. So father
had to go to see him."

"Mahomet! Well, I'm the mountain in this case. Go in peace, my child."
Esme patted the other's head with an absurd and delightful affectation
of maternalism. "And look in the 'Clarion' to-morrow with a clear
assurance. You shan't find your name there--unless in the Social Doings
column. Good-bye, dear."

Having thus engaged her honor, the advisor to the editor sat her down to
plan. At the conclusion of a period of silent thought, she sent a
telephone message which made the heart of young Mr. Surtaine accelerate
its pace perceptibly. Was he too busy to come up to Greenvale, Dr.
Elliot's place, at 8.30 sharp?

Busy he certainly was, but not too busy to obey any behest of his
partner.

That was very nice of him. It would take but a few minutes.

As many minutes as she could use, she might have, or hours.

Then he was to consider himself gratefully thanked and profoundly
curtsied to, over the wire. By the way, if he had a galley proof of
anything that had been written about Kathleen Pierce's motor accident,
would he bring that along? And didn't he think it quite professional of
her to remember all about galleys and things?

Highly professional and clever (albeit in a somewhat altered tone, not
unnoted by the acute listener). Yes, he would bring the proof. At 8.30,
then, sharp.

"The new boss of our new boss," Wayne had styled the charming
interloper, on the occasion of her first visit to the "Clarion" office.
Had she heard, Esme would have approved. More, she would have believed,
though not without misgivings. Well she knew that she had not yet proved
her power over her partner. Many and various as were the men upon whom,
in the assay of her gold