rtlett an
undesirable resident of New York. There is a ready answer. She might be
recognized. Such recognition would be awkward for somebody. But the girl
has lived in almost total seclusion. She is nineteen. If she is so like
her mother as to be recognized, her mother must have been a person of no
small consequence, a lady known to and admired by a very large circle of
friends. The daughter of any other woman, presumably long since dead,
who was not of social importance, could hardly be recognized. You follow
this?"

"Perfectly." Carshaw was beginning to remodel his opinion of the Bureau
generally, and of its easy-going, genial-looking chief in particular.

"This fear of recognition, with its certain consequences," went on
Steingall, pausing to flick the ash off his cigar, "is the dominant
factor in Winifred's career as directed by Rachel Craik. This woman,
swayed by some lingering shreds of decent thought, had the child well
educated, but the instant she approaches maturity, Winifred is set to
earn a living in a bookbinding factory. Why? Social New York does not
visit wholesale trade houses, nor travel on the elevated during rush
hours. But it does go to the big stores and fashionable milliners where
a pretty, well proportioned girl can obtain employment readily.
Moreover, Rachel Craik would never 'hear of' the stage, though Winifred
can sing, and believes she could dance. And how prompt recognition might
be in a theater. It all comes to this, Mr. Carshaw: the Bureau's hands
are tied, but it can and will assist an outsider, whom it trusts, who
means rescuing Miss Bartlett from the exile which threatens her. We have
looked you over carefully, and think you are trustworthy--"

"The Lord help you if you're not!" broke in Clancy. "I like the girl. It
will be a bad day for the man who works her evil."

Carshaw's eyes clashed with Clancy's, as rapiers rasp in thrust and
parry. From that instant the two men became firm friends, for the young
millionaire said quietly:

"I have her promise to call for help on me, first, Mr. Clancy."

"You'll follow her to Fairfield then?" and Steingall sat up suddenly.

"Yes. Please advise me."

"That's the way to talk. I wish there was a heap more boys like you
among the Four Hundred. But I can't advise you. I'm an official.
Suppose, however, I were a young gentleman of leisure who wanted to
befriend a deserving young lady in Winifred Bartlett's very peculiar
circumstances. I'd persu