“That’s all bosh and moonshine,” hiccoughed Kendale; “respect and high pedestal of honor and all that sort of thing.  You’re among the clouds; get down to earth.  I’m only a man—­you mustn’t take me for a little god.  Come, now, what in the name of reason is the use of making such a fuss over this thing, and storming like an angry princess on the stage because I tell you frankly that I’ve taken a notion to you.  By George, you ought to be mighty pleased to know that you’ve captured the fancy of a man like me, with no end of money at my command.  Do you realize that, little one?”

The girl’s terror was growing intense with each passing moment.

Her horror and dread of the man before her was a thousand-fold greater at that moment than her admiration for Lester Armstrong had been in days gone by.  He seemed to her a different being in the same form—­one suddenly transformed from all that was manly and noble to a very fiend incarnate.

An awful stillness had fallen over the girl—­a full realization of the meaning of his jocular remarks was just dawning upon her.  She was looking at him with the awful pallor of death on her lovely young face.

“Come, my pretty Margery,” he cried, quite mistaking the reason that her struggle to free herself from his clasping hand had so suddenly ceased; “now you are falling into a more complaisant mood.  I am glad of that.  Sit down and we’ll talk.  I must lock that door, or some blundering fool will be stumbling in without taking the trouble to knock.  But first give me a kiss from those sweet lips, my dear, to assure me you don’t quite dislike me, you know.”

As he spoke he flung his arm about the girl’s slender waist, and it was then that Margery’s piercing scream rang out so loudly upon her father’s ears, fairly electrifying him as he stood with his hand upon the knob of the door of the private office.

CHAPTER XX.

A FATHER’S RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION

For an instant the old cashier stood like one suddenly paralyzed before the door of the private office from which that terrified scream had issued.

Great God! was he mad or dreaming, that he should imagine he heard his daughter Margery’s voice calling for help from within?

But even as he stood there, trembling, irresolute, the piercing cry was repeated more shrilly, more piteous than before, and it cut through the frightened father’s heart like the thrust of a dagger.

“I am coming, I am here, Margery!” he answered, twisting the bronze knob fiercely; But the door did not yield to his touch as usual, and to his horror he realized that it was locked upon the inside!

With the fury of a tiger, David Conway threw himself against it with all his strength; strong as the lock was, it could not withstand the weight that was brought to bear upon it, and in an instant it was snapped asunder, the door falling in with a crash.