The United States Government formally entered the world war in April, and the following month Ross Wentworth had been graduated from a technical college, and through the auspices of an influential relative was commissioned a captain of engineers, and assigned to duty in one of the larger cantonments.  In due course of events he was sent overseas, and was attached to the forces operating in northern Russia.  During the sixteen months of his service in the land of the erstwhile Czar, he acquired a fund of military terms, both official and slang.  Also he built and maintained in a state of inutility, nine and one-half miles of military swamp road, over which no gun nor detachment of troops ever passed.  The abrupt termination of hostilities caught him with a formidable and inexplicable discrepancy of company funds—­which discrepancy was promptly and liberally met by the aforementioned relative.  Whereupon, Captain Wentworth was honorably discharged from the service of his country.

For many months after his discharge he lived by his wits and looks, but when this grew unproductive of ready cash, he decided to seek employment in his accredited vocation.

This decision he arrived at while sojourning in the home of a wealthy fruit-grower who was interested in the Nettle River project, and who furnished him a letter of recommendation to Orcutt, who promptly employed him.  Thereafter all went well until McNabb’s ultimatum brought the Nettle River project to as sudden a termination as the armistice had brought the war.  Whereupon Wentworth found himself in the uncomfortable predicament of having no available assets and many pressing liabilities, incurred in the course of his endeavor to win the good graces of the wealthy Jean McNabb.

While scarcely knowing Hedin, Wentworth recognized him as a possible rival.  He, himself, was no connoisseur of fur, but at least he knew a Russian sable when he saw one, and as he preceded Jean down the aisle, his brain worked rapidly.

By the time he reached the street, a daring scheme was half-formed in his brain—­a scheme which, if successful, would work the utter ruin of Hedin, and leave him a clear field with the girl.  At the first corner he excused himself.

Hardly was the girl’s back turned when Wentworth dodged around the corner and entered McNabb’s store by another door just in time to see old John rush from the building, bag in hand, and hurry down the street in the direction of the station.

McNabb’s was the only big store in Terrace City, and being a department store, it kept city hours, so while on Saturday evenings all the other stores remained open for business until a late hour, McNabb’s closed at noon.  Passing unnoticed down the aisle, Wentworth’s eyes darted here and there in search of a place of concealment, until at length he took up a position close beside McNabb’s private office, the door of which, he noted with satisfaction, stood slightly ajar.