"He won't love her long. I was a fool to let him go this far--a blind, loving fool. But I'll end it now. He shan't marry her. He has no---" "I haven't much of a heart to boast of, Bansemer, but I beg of you not to do this thing. I love Graydon. He doesn't deserve any pain or disgrace. Take my advice and leave the city. Let me call Harbert back." "No! They can't drive me out! Telephone over and ask Graydon to stop here on his way up this afternoon." The opening and closing of the outer door attracted their attention. Droom peeped forth. In spite of himself, Bansemer started and his eyes widened with sudden alarm. A glance of apprehension passed between the two men. "It's that Deever boy from Judge Smith's," reported Droom. "Tell him to get out," said Bansemer, with a breath of relief. "I thought it might have been---" began Droom with a wry grin. "Nonsense!" "It is a bit too soon. They haven't had time." As Droom left the room, Bansemer crossed to the window and looked down into the seething street far below. He saw that his hand trembled and he tried to laugh at his weakness. For a long time he stood there, his unseeing eyes focused on the hurrying masses, his ears alert for unusual sounds from the outer office. "If it were not for Graydon," he was muttering between set teeth. "God, how I hate to have him know!" Droom had told Eddie Deever to "get out," but Eddie was there to talk and be talked to, so he failed to take the hint. "Say, I haven't seen you since you played the hero up in the fashionable part of town. Gee, that was a startler! I'll bet old man Cable rewards you in some way. What's your theory about the hold-up?" Droom looked up sharply. For the first time there shot into his mind the thought that the breezy boy might be a spy. "I haven't any," he replied shortly. He was trying to remember if he had ever said anything incriminating to the boy. "How d' you happen to be over there just at that time?" "I haven't time to talk about it. Please don't bother me. It happened three days ago and I've really forgotten about it. Don't throw that cigarette into the wastebasket. Haven't you any sense?" "Gee, you don't suppose I'm going to throw it away, do you? There's half an inch of it left. Not me. Say, I've heard your boss has quite a case on Mrs. Cable. How about it?" he almost whispered this. "You shouldn't talk like that." "Oh, you mean that gag about people living in glass houses? Gee, don't worry about that. Chicago is a city of glass houses. A blind man could throw rocks all day and smash a hole in somebody's house every crack. I believe the hold-up man was one of those strikers who have been out of jobs all winter. Smith thinks so." "Who?" "Judge Smith." "That's better." "Did you see his face?" "What are you, bub--a detective?"