"Say, Mr. Rigby," said Eddie earnestly, "what sort of business does Mr. Bansemer handle?" Rigby had difficulty in controlling his expression. "I was wondering, because while I was there yesterday a girl I know came out of the back room where she had been talking to Bansemer. She's no good." "Very likely she was consulting him about something," said Rigby quietly. "She soaked a friend of mine for a thousand when she was singing in the chorus in one of the theatres here." "Do you know her well?" "I--er--did see something of her at one time. Say, don't mention it to Rosie, will you? She's not strong for chorus girls," said Eddie anxiously. "A few days ago I saw a woman come out of his office, heavily veiled. She was crying, because I could hear the sobs. I don't go much on Bansemer, Mr. Rigby. Darn him, he called me a pup one day when I took a message up for Judge Smith." "See here, Eddie," said Rigby, leaning forward suddenly, "I've heard two or three queer things about Bansemer. I want you to tell me all you hear from Droom and all that you see. Don't you think you could cultivate Droom's acquaintance a bit? Keep this very quiet--not a word to anybody. It may mean something in the end." "Gee whiz!" murmured Eddie, his eyes wide with interest. From that day on he and Bobby Rigby were allies--even conspirators. Later in the day Rigby had a telephone message from Graydon Bansemer, suggesting that they lunch together. All he would say over the wire was that he would some day soon expect Rigby to perform a happy service for him. Bobby understood and was troubled, He suspected that Graydon had asked Jane Cable to marry him and that she had consented. He loved Graydon Bansemer, but for the first time in their acquaintance he found himself wondering if the son were not playing into the father's hands in this most desirable matrimonial venture. With a shudder of repugnance he put the thought from him, loyal to that good friend and comrade. James Bansemer came into his office late that morning. He had not seen Graydon the night before, but at breakfast the young man announced his good fortune and asked for his blessing. To the son's surprise, the elder man did not at once express his approval. For a long time he sat silent and preoccupied to all appearance, narrowly studying his son's face until the young man was constrained to laugh in his nervousness. "You love her--you are very sure?" asked the father at last. "Better than my life," cried Graydon warmly. "She has good blood in her," said Bansemer, senior, slowly, almost absently. "I should say so. Her father is a wonderful man." "Yes, I daresay," agreed the other without taking his eyes from the son's face. "But you don't say whether you approve or disapprove," complained Graydon. "Would it change matters if I disapproved?" "Not in the least, father. I love her. I'd hate to displease you in--"