one.

The next moment Quin found himself face to face with the stern-looking
personage whose mere appearance at the window a few minutes before had
had such a subduing effect on the crowd below.

As he listened to Quin's message he looked at him narrowly and
suspiciously with piercing black eyes that seemed intent on seeking out
the weakest spot of whatever they rested upon.

"When did Mr. Bartlett give you these letters?" he asked in a tone as
cold as the tinkle of ice against glass.

"I got 'em last night, sir."

"Where?"

"At his house, when I went to carry word about his mother's accident."

"Close that door back of you," said Mr. Bangs, with a jerk of his head;
then he went on, "So Mr. Bartlett was at home when you reached there last
night?"

"Oh, _yes_, sir!" Quin assured him with an emphasis that implied Mr.
Randolph Bartlett's unfailing presence at his own fireside on every
Sabbath evening.

"That is strange," Mr. Bangs commented dryly. "Miss Enid Bartlett
telephoned an hour ago that her brother and his wife were out of the
city."

Quin was visibly embarrassed. He was not used to treading the quicksands
of duplicity, and he felt himself sinking.

"Young man," said Mr. Bangs sternly, "I am inclined to think you are
deceiving me."

"No," said Quin with spirit, "I haven't deceived you; but I did lie to
Miss Eleanor's aunt over the telephone."

"What was your object?"

"Well, I couldn't tell her Mr. Bartlett was stewed, could I?"

Mr. Bangs gave a short, contemptuous laugh. "As I thought," he said.
"That will do."

But Quin had no intention of going until he had spoken a word in his own
behalf. The idea had just occurred to him that by obtaining a position
with Bartlett & Bangs he could add another link to the chain that was to
bind him to Eleanor.

"You don't happen to have a job for me?" he inquired of the back of Mr.
Bangs's bald, dome-like head.

"A job?" repeated Mr. Bangs, glancing over his shoulder at Quin's
uniform.

"Yes, sir. I'm out of the service now."

"What can you do?"

Quin looked at him quizzically. "I can receive and obey the orders of the
commanding officer," he said.

Mr. Bangs, being humor-proof, evidently considered this impertinent, and
repeated his question sharply.

"Oh, I'll do anything," said Quin rashly. "Soldiers can't be choosers
these days."

Mr. Bangs cast a critical eye on his strong, well built frame:

"We might use you in the factory," he said in