Meantime, a solitary figure remained in the library, pacing to and fro like a lost soul in Purgatory.  Mrs. Ryder had returned from the play and gone to bed, serenely oblivious of the drama in real life that had been enacted at home, the servants locked the house up for the night and still John Burkett Ryder walked the floor of his sanctum, and late into the small hours of the morning the watchman going his lonely rounds, saw a light in the library and the restless figure of his employer sharply silhouetted against the white blinds.

For the first time in his life John Ryder realized that there was something in the world beyond Self.  He had seen with his own eyes the sacrifice a daughter will make for the father she loves, and he asked himself what manner of a man that father could be to inspire such devotion in his child.  He probed into his own heart and conscience and reviewed his past career.  He had been phenomenally successful, but he had not been happy.  He had more money than he knew what to do with, but the pleasures of the domestic circle, which he saw other men enjoy, had been denied to him.  Was he himself to blame?  Had his insensate craving for gold and power led him to neglect those other things in life which contribute more truly to man’s happiness?  In other words, was his life a mistake?  Yes, it was true what this girl charged, he had been merciless and unscrupulous in his dealings with his fellow man.  It was true that hardly a dollar of his vast fortune had been honestly earned.  It was true that it had been wrung from the people by fraud and trickery.  He had craved for power, yet now he had tasted it, what a hollow joy it was, after all!  The public hated and despised him; even his so-called friends and business associates toadied to him merely because they feared him.  And this judge—­this father he had persecuted and ruined, what a better man and citizen he was, how much more worthy of a child’s love and of the esteem of the world!  What had Judge Rossmore done, after all, to deserve the frightful punishment the amalgamated interests had caused him to suffer?  If he had blocked their game, he had done only what his oath, his duty commanded him to do.  Such a girl as Shirley Rossmore could not have had any other kind of a father.  Ah, if he had had such a daughter he might have been a better man, if only to win his child’s respect and affection.  John Ryder pondered long and deeply and the more he ruminated the stronger the conviction grew upon him that the girl was right and he was wrong.  Suddenly, he looked at his watch.  It was one o’clock.  Roberts had told him that it would be an all night session and that a vote would probably not be taken until very late.  He unhooked the telephone and calling “central” asked for “long distance” and connection with Washington.

It was seven o’clock when the maid entered Shirley’s room with her breakfast and she found its occupant up and dressed.

“Why you haven’t been to bed, Miss!” exclaimed the girl, looking at the bed in the inner room which seemed scarcely disturbed.