“Now, don’t moralize,” replied his father testily, “as if your own selfishness in desiring to possess that girl wasn’t the mainspring of all your actions!” Waving his son out of the room he added:  “Now leave me alone with her for a few moments.  Perhaps I can make her listen to reason.”

Jefferson stared at his father as if he feared he were out of his mind.

“What do you mean?  Are you—?” he ejaculated.

“Go—­go leave her to me,” commanded the financier.  “Slam the door when you go out and she’ll think we’ve both gone.  Then come up again presently.”

The stratagem succeeded admirably.  Jefferson gave the door a vigorous pull and John Ryder stood quiet, waiting for the girl to emerge from sanctuary.  He did not have to wait long.  The door soon opened and Shirley came out slowly.  She had her hat on and was drawing on her gloves, for through her window she had caught a glimpse of the cab standing at the curb.  She started on seeing Ryder standing there motionless, and she would have retreated had he not intercepted her.

“I wish to speak to you Miss—­Rossmore,” he began.

“I have nothing to say,” answered Shirley frigidly.

“Why did you do this?” he asked, holding out the cheque.

“Because I do not want your money,” she replied with hauteur.

“It was yours—­you earned it,” he said.

“No, I came here hoping to influence you to help my father.  The work I did was part of the plan.  It happened to fall my way.  I took it as a means to get to your heart.”

“But it is yours, please take it.  It will be useful.”

“No,” she said scornfully, “I can’t tell you how low I should fall in my own estimation if I took your money!  Money,” she added, with ringing contempt, “why, that’s all there is to you!  It’s your god!  Shall I make your god my god?  No, thank you, Mr. Ryder!”

“Am I as bad as that?” he asked wistfully.

“You are as bad as that!” she answered decisively.

“So bad that I contaminate even good money?” He spoke lightly but she noticed that he winced.

“Money itself is nothing,” replied the girl, “it’s the spirit that gives it—­the spirit that receives it, the spirit that earns it, the spirit that spends it.  Money helps to create happiness.  It also creates misery.  It’s an engine of destruction when not properly used, it destroys individuals as it does nations.  It has destroyed you, for it has warped your soul!”

“Go on,” he laughed bitterly, “I like to hear you!”

“No, you don’t, Mr. Ryder, no you don’t, for deep down in your heart you know that I am speaking the truth.  Money and the power it gives you, has dried up the well-springs of your heart.”

He affected to be highly amused at her words, but behind the mask of callous indifference the man suffered.  Her words seared him as with a red hot iron.  She went on: