think of Ramon--I can only suffer."

"I know. I can imagine what you must be trying to endure just now,
Miss Lawton, but please believe that it will not last much longer. And
don't worry about your secretary; Emily Brunell will be with you again
soon, I think."

"Emily Brunell!" repeated Anita, in surprise. "You know, then?"

"Yes. And, strange as it may seem, she is indirectly concerned in the
conspiracy against you, but innocently so. You will understand
everything some day. What about the Irish girl, Loretta Murfree?"

"President Mallowe's filing clerk? He dismissed her only this morning,
on a trumped-up charge of incompetence. He has been systematically
finding fault with her for several days, as if trying to discover a
pretext for discharging her, so she wasn't unprepared. She's here now,
having some lunch, up in my dressing-room. Would you like to talk with
her?"

"I would, indeed," he assented, nodding as Anita pressed the bell.
"She seemed the brightest and most wide-awake young woman of the lot.
If anyone could have obtained information of value to us, I fancy she
could. Did she have anything to say to you about Mr. Mallowe?"

"I would rather she told you herself," Anita replied, hesitatingly,
with the ghost of a smile. "Whatever she said about him was strictly
personal, and of a distinctly uncomplimentary nature. There is nothing
spineless about Loretta!"

When the young Irish girl appeared in response to Anita's summons, her
eyes and mouth opened wide in amazement at sight of the detective.

"Oh, sir, it's you!" she exclaimed. "I was going down to your office
this afternoon, to tell you that I had been discharged. Mr. Mallowe
himself turned me off this morning. I'm not saying this to excuse
myself, but it was honestly through no fault of mine. The old
man--gentleman--has been trying for days to get rid of me. I knew it,
so I've been especially careful in my work, and cheerful and smiling
whenever he appeared on the scene--like this!"

She favored them with a grimace which was more like the impishly
derisive grin of a street urchin than a respectful smile, and
continued:

"This morning I caught him mixing up the letters in the files with his
own hands, and when he blamed me for it later, I saw that it was no
use. He was bound to get rid of me in some way or another, so I didn't
tell him what I thought of him, but came away peaceably--which is a
lot to ask of anybody with a drop of Irish blood in