of his father, and the money
that has come through the hard work of better men.

"You can't scare me," she cried scornfully, as he took a step towards
her. "Oh, yes, I know I'm going to leave your employment, and I'm leaving
to-night!"

The man was hurt, humiliated, almost crushed by her scorn. This she
suddenly realised and her quick woman's sympathy checked all further
bitterness.

"I'm sorry I've been so unkind," she said in a more gentle tone. "But you
rather provoked me, Mr. Lyne."

He was incapable of speech and could only shake his head and point with
unsteady finger to the door.

"Get out," he whispered.

Odette Rider walked out of the room, but the man did not move. Presently,
however, he crossed to the window and, looking down upon the floor, saw
her trim figure move slowly through the crowd of customers and assistants
and mount the three steps which led to the chief cashier's office.

"You shall pay for this, my girl!" he muttered.

He was wounded beyond forgiveness. He was a rich man's son and had lived
in a sense a sheltered life. He had been denied the advantage which a
public school would have brought to him and had gone to college
surrounded by sycophants and poseurs as blatant as himself, and never
once had the cold breath of criticism been directed at him, except in
what he was wont to describe as the "reptile Press."

He licked his dry lips, and, walking to his desk, pressed a bell. After a
short wait--for he had purposely sent his secretary away--a girl came in.

"Has Mr. Tarling come?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, he's in the board-room. He has been waiting a quarter of an
hour."

He nodded.

"Thank you," he said.

"Shall I tell him----"

"I will go to him myself," said Lyne.

He took a cigarette out of his gold case, struck a match and lit it. His
nerves were shaken, his hands were trembling, but the storm in his heart
was soothing down under the influence of this great thought. Tarling!
What an inspiration! Tarling, with his reputation for ingenuity, his
almost sublime uncanny cleverness. What could be more wonderful than this
coincidence?

He passed with quick steps along the corridor which connected his private
den with the board-room, and came into that spacious apartment with
outstretched hand.

The man who turned to greet him may have been twenty-seven or
thirty-seven. He was tall, but lithe rather than broad. His face was the
colour of mahogany, and the blue eyes turned to