nging to his feet.
"I'll show this Mary Randall there's one she can't scare."

He paced nervously up and down the office, pausing finally beside his
desk.

"Miss Masters, take an open letter from me to the newspapers."

He did not notice the actions of the stenographer as he dictated:

"I, John Boland, am a business man. I stand on my record. I defy Miss
Mary Randall--"

In pausing to formulate his thoughts, he became conscious that Miss
Masters had not been taking his dictation; that she had laid an envelope
on his desk directly in front of where he usually sat, and that she was
putting on her hat.

"Here, hold on!" he cried peremptorily. "What does this mean, Miss
Masters?"

"It means, Mr. Boland," she replied quietly, as she adjusted a hat pin,
"that I have resigned. Good day."

When she started to leave Boland called out to her in amazement:

"Here--wait--why do you resign?"

"That letter on the desk will tell you," she said as she moved through
the doorway. "Good day."

John Boland picked up the letter and opened it. He was dazed as he read
aloud:

"I refuse to lend my aid to the owners of vice property. Mary Randall."

Boland stared into space, while Harry exclaimed:

"Then Miss Masters is Mary Randall!"

"Murder, alive!" yelled Grogan. He slid down in his chair and attempted
to conceal himself beneath the desk.

John Boland's hands trembled as he clutched the letter.

"Mary Randall," he said, still dazed. "By all that's holy! That girl Mary
Randall!"

CHAPTER XVII

THE CAFE SINISTER

The Cafe Sinister stands like a gilded temple at the entrance to
Chicago's tenderloin. The fact is significant. The management, the
appearance, the policy, if you please, of the place are all in keeping
with this one potent circumstance of location. The Cafe Sinister beckons
to the passerby. It appeals to him subtly with its music, its cheap
splendor, its false gayety. To the sophisticated its allurements are
those of the scarlet woman, to the innocent its voice is the voice of
Joy.

Two pillars of carved glass, lighted from the inside by electricity,
stand at the portal. Within a huge room, filled with drinking tables
sparkling with many lights, gleaming and garish, suggests without
revealing the enticements of evil.

This is the set trap. Above is that indispensable appurtenance to the
pander's trade--the private dining room. Above that