en, as you are
pleased to call us, will do their best."

Balcom glared, while Zita with a strange glance toward Eva left Locke
and joined Balcom in a far corner of the room.

"Zita," Balcom whispered, "the time has arrived to take you out of this
false position."

Zita trembled with suppressed excitement as she heard this, and followed
Balcom back toward the table, where the others were already seating
themselves.

It was approaching the hour, when Eva rose and was about to speak.
Balcom motioned and stopped her with a gesture.

"One moment, please, Miss Brent," he interrupted. "Before the others
arrive I am going to establish Zita's real position in this house."

All at the table looked at one another in openly expressed astonishment.
Zita, with eyes cast down, hands clasped in her lap, seemed almost
demure, though about her mouth played a faint smile.

Even Paul did not understand this phase of the conspiracy and looked at
his father as much as to say, "I wonder what the old man is up to now?"

Locke was the first to recover his coolness. "Just what, Mr. Balcom, do
you mean?" he asked.

"I mean--" began Balcom, then stopped. "But first I will produce a
witness who can vouch for all the facts which I am about to relate."

Balcom went to the door and opened it. There, bobbing her head and
smirking mechanically, stood that loathsome creature, Old Meg. In these
rich surroundings her frightful squalor was all the more accentuated.
Those at the table drew back in utter disgust as she tottered into the
room. As she passed Zita she paused.

"I held you in these arms when you were but a wee baby," she muttered,
hideously.

Zita drew away from her and looked at Balcom questioningly. Balcom now
leaned far over the table and spoke impressively.

"Twenty years ago Brent was secretly married to his secretary. There was
a child. But Brent craved money, and power that the money would bring.
Saddled with a wife and child, he was barred from his ambition, which
was to marry some rich woman. So he made a hell on earth for his wife
until, in desperation, she consented to an annulment of their marriage."

The room was breathlessly quiet as Balcom continued.

"Years passed and then his conscience smote him. He made his own child
his secretary." Then he turned to Zita, pointing at her. "There she
sits," he exclaimed, "and half of the voting power of this company
belongs to her--Zita Brent, Zita Dane _Brent_."

Instantly