to death of twenty-two women and
children--the families of the striking miners."

Judith had read the story. That is, she had glanced at the headlines,
and realising the horror of their import, and at the same time feeling
that there was no particular interest for her, had passed on to closer
and less unpleasant interests. She remained silent before the tall
stranger's accusing finger. Her curiosity was more piqued than ever. But
Roger was angered.

"Well--and what of it?" he demanded with ill-concealed truculence.

The tall man turned his serious gaze on Roger.

"I suppose you are familiar with this terrible situation, too," he said,
half interrogatively.

"Suppose I am. What of it. I say?" Roger knew nothing whatever about it,
of course, and from the other man's sudden, half-veiled smile, it was
perfectly obvious that he knew that he did not. He turned suddenly from
Roger with a faint gesture of his long hand that seemed to sweep that
young man totally out of the discussion.

Then Judith, offended, although Roger himself was hardly conscious of
the rebuff, spoke for him.

"Yes," she said with deliberate coldness. "We know all about it. But
what of it?"

"Simply this, Miss Wynrod," said Good crisply, and with a hint of
hostility in his manner. "You are a large stockholder in several of the
Algoma mines. The blood of those murdered miners is on your head--and
those innocent women and children burned to death by your hirelings.
Whether you know it or not, you have a responsibility for the situation,
and I have come here to-day to find out what you are going to do about
it all?"

"Do about it?" cried Judith, amazed by the suddenness of his attack.
"I'm afraid I don't understand."

The stranger's mood softened and his voice became quieter.

"I want to find out what you think about things--things in general--what
you are going to do with the great wealth which is yours, what part you
are going to play in the changing world. This business at Algoma--that's
only a part of the whole. I want to find out what--well--what you really
_are_?"

Judith could have laughed aloud at the irony of the question which this
uncouth stranger was putting to her. It was, almost to the words, the
same question she had put to her brother not half an hour before. What
did she think about things? Why were people suddenly so interested in
what other people thought?

But the similarity was not apparent to Roger. The question caused