"I told you she had been an ex-convict."

"Yes," Gilder said, after he had regained his self-control. He stared
at her pleadingly. "Tell me," he said with a certain dignity, "is this
true?"

Here, then, was the moment for which she had longed through weary days,
through weary years. Here was the man whom she hated, suppliant before
her to know the truth. Her heart quickened. Truly, vengeance is sweet to
one who has suffered unjustly.

"Is this true?" the man repeated, with something of horror in his voice.

"It is," Mary said quietly.

For a little, there was silence in the room. Once, Inspector Burke
started to speak, but the magnate made an imperative gesture, and the
officer held his peace. Always, Mary rested motionless. Within her, a
fierce joy surged. Here was the time of her victory. Opposite her was
the man who had caused her anguish, the man whose unjust action had
ruined her life. Now, he was her humble petitioner, but this servility
could be of no avail to save him from shame. He must drink of the dregs
of humiliation--and then again. No price were too great to pay for a
wrong such as that which he had put upon her.

At last, Gilder was restored in a measure to his self-possession. He
spoke with the sureness of a man of wealth, confident that money will
salve any wound.

"How much?" he asked, baldly.

Mary smiled an inscrutable smile.

"Oh, I don't need money," she said, carelessly. "Inspector Burke will
tell you how easy it is for me to get it."

Gilder looked at her with a newly dawning respect; then his shrewdness
suggested a retort.

"Do you want my son to learn what you are?" he said.

Mary laughed. There was something dreadful in that burst of spurious
amusement.

"Why not?" she answered. "I'm ready to tell him myself."

Then Gilder showed the true heart of him, in which love for his boy was
before all else. He found himself wholly at a loss before the woman's
unexpected reply.

"But I don't want him to know," he stammered. "Why, I've spared the boy
all his life. If he really loves you--it will----"

At that moment, the son himself entered hurriedly from the hallway.
In his eagerness, he saw no one save the woman whom he loved. At his
entrance, Mary rose and moved backward a step involuntarily, in
sheer surprise over his coming, even though she had known he must
come--perhaps from some other emotion, deeper, hidden as yet even from
herself.

The young man, with his wholesome fa