one moment. I want my daughter to marry----"

"Whom she pleases," said Loris. "Harry may be poor, but he's not too
proud to fight!"

"Bah! They get those uniforms so the girls will notice them. What does
he know about war?"

"He's been at Plattsburg for three months. He's in town on furlough.
He's helping us with Red Cross work. Isn't that noble!"

"That part's all right," said the Magnate. "I want you to keep him from
me, that's all. I believe he's half German!"

"He's not! Harry is all-American. His mother was born of German parents
in this country. His father was Canadian. You've heard of the Nichols
who built part of the Grand Trunk Railroad. Was he German?"

Stockbridge paled under the torrent which gushed from the girl's lips.

"Well, all right," he said resignedly. "Don't bring him here or allow
him to call. I've too much to think about to worry over Harry Nichols.
You better go to your room and think things over."

Loris glanced at her wrist-watch. She leaned with quick motion and
kissed her father on the forehead. She turned at the portieres and
threw back her head.

"Good-by, Mr. Drew," she said prettily. "I hope that you have not been
annoyed."

The detective, naturally quick at answering, found his tongue tied in
his mouth. He stammered a reply, which was too late. Loris swished
through the curtains, leaving the room empty for her passing.

"A mighty fine girl," was Drew's whispered comment. "They don't often
come like that. She's very high class. She's got spirit. I'd hate to
snatch a delusion from that young lady--Harry Nichols, for instance."

"Come here!" broke in Stockbridge.

Drew crossed the rugs. He stood by the magnate's side. He watched him
pour out a half-glass of Bourbon and take the whisky neat. He frowned.
"Well?" he asked.

"Not a word from your men or the telephone company?" asked Stockbridge,
wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "That's queer, isn't it?"

Drew took out his watch. He replaced it after a glance at the dial. His
eyes wandered to a little Sevres clock on a book-case. "It's time for
both," he said. "It's----"

"There's somebody now--go see," Stockbridge whispered tersely.
"Somebody is in the hallway."

The portieres parted and revealed the beef-red face of the English
butler. He advanced a step.

"The trouble-man from the telephone company is 'ere, sir," he said.
"'E's 'ere! 'E's been hover the junctions in the halley, sir. 'E's
looked at the junctio