“In the barbaric ages they fought for possession, but they fought openly.  The feudal barons fought for what they stole, but it was a fair fight.  They didn’t strike in the dark.  At least, they gave a man a chance for his life.  But when you modern barons of industry don’t like legislation you destroy it, when you don’t like your judges you remove them, when a competitor outbids you you squeeze him out of commercial existence!  You have no hearts, you are machines, and you are cowards, for you fight unfairly.”

“It is not true, it is not true,” he protested.

“It is true,” she insisted hotly, “a few hours ago in cold blood you doomed my father to what is certain death because you decided it was a political necessity.  In other words he interfered with your personal interests—­your financial interests—­you, with so many millions you can’t count them!” Scornfully she added:  “Come out into the light—­fight in the open!  At least, let him know who his enemy is!”

“Stop—­stop—­not another word,” he cried impatiently, “you have diagnosed the disease.  What of the remedy?  Are you prepared to reconstruct human nature?”

Confronting each other, their eyes met and he regarded her without resentment, almost with tenderness.  He felt strangely drawn towards this woman who had defied and accused him, and made him see the world in a new light.

“I don’t deny,” he admitted reluctantly, “that things seem to be as you describe them, but it is part of the process of evolution.”

“No,” she protested, “it is the work of God!”

“It is evolution!” he insisted.

“Ah, that’s it,” she retorted, “you evolve new ideas, new schemes, new tricks—­you all worship different gods—­gods of your own making!”

He was about to reply when there was a commotion at the door and Theresa entered, followed by a man servant to carry down the trunk.

“The cab is downstairs, Miss,” said the maid.

Ryder waved them away imperiously.  He had something further to say which he did not care for servants to hear.  Theresa and the man precipitately withdrew, not understanding, but obeying with alacrity a master who never brooked delay in the execution of his orders.  Shirley, indignant, looked to him for an explanation.

“You don’t need them,” he exclaimed with a quiet smile in which was a shade of embarrassment.  “I—­I came here to tell you that I—­ " He stopped as if unable to find words, while Shirley gazed at him in utter astonishment.  “Ah,” he went on finally, “you have made it very hard for me to speak.”  Again he paused and then with an effort he said slowly:  “An hour ago I had Senator Roberts on the long distance telephone, and I’m going to Washington.  It’s all right about your father.  The matter will be dropped.  You’ve beaten me.  I acknowledge it.  You’re the first living soul who ever has beaten John Burkett Ryder.”

Shirley started forward with a cry of mingled joy and surprise.  Could she believe her ears?  Was it possible that the dreaded Colossus had capitulated and that she had saved her father?  Had the forces of right and justice prevailed, after all?  Her face transfigured, radiant she exclaimed breathlessly: