“Do you really believe this, that John Ryder deliberately concocted the bribery charge with the sole purpose of ruining my father?” demanded Shirley when she had somewhat recovered.

“There is no other solution of the mystery possible,” answered Stott.  “The Trusts found they could not fight him in the open, in a fair, honest way, so they plotted in the dark.  Ryder was the man who had most to lose by your father’s honesty on the bench.  Ryder was the man he hit the hardest when he enjoined his Transcontinental Railroad.  Ryder, I am convinced, is the chief conspirator.”

“But can such things be in a civilized community?” cried Shirley indignantly.  “Cannot he be exposed, won’t the press take the matter up, cannot we show conspiracy?”

“It sounds easy, but it isn’t,” replied Stott.  “I have had a heap of experience with the law, my child, and I know what I’m talking about.  They’re too clever to be caught tripping.  They’ve covered their tracks well, be sure of that.  As to the newspapers—­when did you ever hear of them championing a man when he’s down?”

“And you, father—­do you believe Ryder did this?”

“I have no longer any doubt of it,” answered the judge.  “I think John Ryder would see me dead before he would raise a finger to help me.  His answer to my demand for my letters convinced me that he was the arch plotter.”

“What letters do you refer to?” demanded Shirley.

“The letters I wrote to him in regard to my making an investment.  He advised the purchase of certain stock.  I wrote him two letters at the time, which letters if I had them now would go a long way to clearing me of this charge of bribery, for they plainly showed that I regarded the transaction as a bona fide investment.  Since this trouble began I wrote to Ryder asking him to return me these letters so I might use them in my defence.  The only reply I got was an insolent note from his secretary saying that Mr. Ryder had forgotten all about the transaction, and in any case had not the letters I referred to.”

“Couldn’t you compel him to return them?” asked Shirley.

“We could never get at him,” interrupted Stott.  “The man is guarded as carefully as the Czar.”

“Still,” objected Shirley, “it is possible that he may have lost the letters or even never received them.”

“Oh, he has them safe enough,” replied Stott.  “A man like Ryder keeps every scrap of paper, with the idea that it may prove useful some day.  The letters are lying somewhere in his desk.  Besides, after the Transcontinental decision he was heard to say that he’d have Judge Rossmore off the Bench inside of a year.”

“And it wasn’t a vain boast—­he’s done it,” muttered the judge.