He had made up his mind that I was to marry Ed Landers. In most ways father is kind and generous. He's kept the coupé we came here in for mother and me for two years; and you see," she gestured a little proudly about the bedecked and badly furnished rooms, "you see how he gets everything for us. Mr. Landers was most generous, too. He took me to the theaters two or three times every week—always the best seats, too. I didn't want to go, but father made me. I preferred Will, though he wasn't so generous."
Trant's eyes returned, with more intelligent scrutiny, to the mysterious implement in his hand.
"What salary do checkers receive, Rentland?" he asked, in a low tone.
"One hundred and twenty-five dollars a month."
"And her father, the dock superintendent—how much?" Trant's expressive glance now jumping about from one gaudy, extravagant trifle in the room to another, caught a glimpse again of the electric coupé standing in the street, then returned to the tiny bit of wire in his hand.
"Three thousand a year," Rentland replied.
"Tell me, Miss Rowan," said Trant, "this implement—have you by any chance mentioned it to President Welter?"
"Why, no, Mr. Trant."
"You are sure of that? Excellent! Excellent! Now the queer, quiet little man with the scar on his cheek who came to see Morse; no one could tell you anything about him?"
"No one, Mr. Trant; but yesterday Will's landlady told me that a man has come to ask for Will every
