The man winced and made a step backward.  There was a gleam in the Ryder eye which he knew by experience boded no good.

“Really, Jefferson,” he said in a more conciliatory tone, “I know absolutely nothing about the paragraph.  This is the first I hear of it.  Why not ask your father?”

“I will,” replied Jefferson grimly,

He was turning to go in the direction of the library when Bagley stopped him.

“You cannot possibly see him now,” he said.  “Sergeant Ellison of the Secret Service is in there with him, and your father told me not to disturb him on any account.  He has another appointment at three o’clock with some woman who writes books.”

Seeing that the fellow was in earnest, Jefferson did not insist.  He could see his father a little later or send him a message through his mother.  Proceeding upstairs he found Mrs. Ryder in her room and in a few energetic words he explained the situation to his mother.  They had gone too far with this matchmaking business, he said, his father was trying to interfere with his personal liberty and he was going to put a stop to it.  He would leave at once for Europe.  Mrs. Ryder had already heard of the projected trip abroad, so the news of this sudden departure was not the shock it might otherwise have been.  In her heart she did not blame her son, on the contrary she admired his spirit, and if the temporary absence from home would make him happier, she would not hold him back.  Yet, mother like, she wept and coaxed, but nothing would shake Jefferson in his determination and he begged his mother to make it very plain to his father that this was final and that a few days would see him on his way abroad.  He would try and come back to see his father that afternoon, but otherwise she was to say good-bye for him.  Mrs. Ryder promised tearfully to do what her son demanded and a few minutes later Jefferson was on his way to the front door.

As he went down stairs something white on the carpet attracted his attention.  He stooped and picked it up.  It was a letter.  It was in Bagley’s handwriting and had evidently been dropped by the man to whom the secretary had given it to post.  But what interested Jefferson more than anything else was that it was addressed to Miss Kate Roberts.  Under ordinary circumstances, a king’s ransom would not have tempted the young man to read a letter addressed to another, but he was convinced that his father’s secretary was an adventurer and if he were carrying on an intrigue in this manner it could have only one meaning.  It was his duty to unveil a rascal who was using the Ryder roof and name to further his own ends and victimize a girl who, although sophisticated enough to know better, was too silly to realize the risk she ran at the hands of an unscrupulous man.  Hesitating no longer, Jefferson tore open the envelope and read: 

My dearest wife that is to be: 

I have arranged everything.  Next Wednesday—­just a week from to-day—­we will go to the house of a discreet friend of mine where a minister will marry us; then we will go to City Hall and get through the legal part of it.  Afterwards, we can catch the four o’clock train for Buffalo.  Meet me in the ladies’ room at the Holland House Wednesday morning at 11 a.m.  I will come there with a closed cab.  Your devoted