Ida regarded the young woman intently. She saw that, though the features of the young lady were somewhat hard, and the expression of her face not wholly agreeable, yet she was one who would be attractive to the other sex. Her eyes were dark, and there was in them a rather steely gleam as she turned them keenly on Ida. “I don’t know you,” was her salutation. Looking about the room, Ida saw there were two doors therein, both open. Without replying to the abrupt and ungracious greeting of the young lady, Ida went to the one which seemed to lead into an inner apartment, and, closing it, shot the bolt she found on it. “You are impertinent,” said Miss Rainforth. Nor to this remark did Ida reply, but went to the door leading to the hall, closed that, and turned the key in the lock. “What do you mean to do?” asked Miss Rainforth, so much astonished that she had not as yet interfered. “I mean,” said Ida, “that we shall not be interrupted during our interview.” Ida now went to a chair in that part of the room which brought her back to the light, and forced Miss Rainforth to stand, or sit, as she chose, with that light full on her face. “You do not ask me to sit down, Miss Rainforth,” said Ida. “So I shall take a seat uninvited. But, before I do, I wish to say that I know that you are an expert in shooting. I would have you know that I am also. You can take your revolvers, if you choose to do so, for I shall sit with mine in my lap ready to check any use of yours on your part.” With that Ida took her revolvers from her pocket, and, sitting down, laid them upon her lap. “Well,” said Miss Rainforth, with a long breath, “of all the impudent things I have ever met, you are the most impudent.” “Oh, no,” replied Ida, “I am merely a determined person who will not be denied in the matter I have come about.” “Leave the room,” said Miss Rainforth, suddenly losing her temper. “I shall do nothing of the kind,” said Ida. Miss Rainforth made a motion as if she would run to the door, but Ida sternly commanded her to stop. Apparently unused to such a tone, Miss Rainforth stopped, turning more in surprise and astonishment than in submission. “Miss Rainforth,” said Ida, “you will please to return to your seat.” The young lady continued to stare at her visitor, and Ida went on: “It is useless for you to call any one, for that will only result in your ruin and disgrace. As I told you, you have met with a person even more determined than yourself. You must submit.” “Who are you?” the young lady blurted forth. “My name is of no consequence,” said Ida. “It is enough for you to know that I am one of Nick Carter’s people. I have something to learn from you which you must tell.” “‘Must! Must! Must!’” repeated the young lady, now nearly beside herself with anger. “In all my life, I have never permitted any one to say ‘must’ to me. How dare you, when my father never dared to say it to me?”