e was dining with
Molly Wolcott that evening, and, as he dressed, his thoughts, quite
properly, centred exclusively in her.

It was she herself, however, who recalled the distressing situation.

"How's Mr. Good?" she asked. Somewhat to his surprise her father echoed
the question, with what seemed like more than a mere polite interest.

Briefly he told the simple facts as they had occurred, refraining from
any attempt at explanation.

"But didn't he give any reason?" asked Mollie incredulously, when he had
finished.

"Not a one."

"Did he say there was a reason?" Roger thought it a little odd that the
Judge should manifest such concern for a person with whom he could have
had only the slightest acquaintance.

"Yes," he admitted, "he did."

"But he wouldn't give it?"

"No. And he skipped so fast I didn't have time to press him much."

"Have you any hypothesis?" The Judge fingered his watch chain nervously.
It occurred to Roger that he was making an effort to seem only mildly
interested.

"Well ... yes, I have." Roger hesitated for a moment. The theory he had
formulated was not one which he cared to present. It would be scornfully
rejected, he felt, before he had an opportunity to elaborate it. And, as
a matter of fact, he was forced to admit, it was not a very explanatory
theory at best. It needed explanation in itself.

"Go on," said Molly. She had noted his pause and was the more expectant
in consequence.

"Well ... it's a funny thing--but this business has been in the air.
I've noticed a different spirit around the office for a couple of weeks.
You know Good was the idol of the boys on the staff. They were a little
suspicious of him at first, I guess. He was too good to be true. Bassett
has hinted as much. But that wore off. He proved he was no fake. They
came to trust him absolutely. Then, all of a sudden, the whole thing
seemed to change. I've noticed lots of queer little things lately. The
boys have been pretty cool toward him. I've taxed several of them with
it, but I couldn't get anything out of them. He's lost his hold on them.
There isn't any doubt of that. He isn't the leader any more. He's done
something--I don't know what--but it must have made the boys pretty
sore. Anyway, they seem to have sent him to Coventry for it. I guess the
poor chap got so discouraged he just had to quit. That's the way I
figure it out."

"Isn't that a shame," cried Molly. "Do you think he's to blame--has he
really