"I don't know," replied Grogan. "I've never met the lady. That's the mystery of her and she's keeping it well. She belongs to the Randalls of Chicago--society folk--that's all I know. But she isn't one of these Michigan boulevard tea party reformers. They just talk. She goes out and delivers the goods. She's a fighter." Harry laughed again. "This is good," he said. "An unknown girl, a society bud, working single handed stirs up Chicago until she gets all of you alleged smart politicians worrying. Grogan, I'm going to write a comedy about that." "Are you now?" said Grogan. "Well, I don't approve of your idea. It's not funny. The other night they raided the Baker Club and when they came into court they had evidence enough to hang them all. This Randall girl had worked in the club for a month as a waitress and she KNEW." "Still, Mike, that shouldn't affect father." "Not directly--no," replied Grogan, again picking his words with care, "but it gives the whole city an unsteady feeling. People won't invest their money. If I were in your place, my boy, I'd go home." "I'm off tomorrow in my new car. Better come with me." "Make it tonight and I will," replied Grogan. "You're on," agreed Harry. "We'll go tonight." He surveyed the sky. "It's going to storm," he said; "but even if it does, unless there's a flood the roads will be good. We'll go tonight." CHAPTER VIII THE DEATH OF TOM WELCOME Both Harry Boland and Grogan fell silent after having reached their agreement to return to Chicago immediately. To a degree both men regretted the decision. Grogan had accomplished the purpose for which the elder Boland had despatched him to Millville--that of disentangling Harry from his romance--but what he had seen of Patience Welcome had led him to dislike his task. Harry had no sooner promised to drive back to Chicago in the night than he was assailed with yearning to see the girl again. Each occupied himself with his own thoughts. Dusk descended on the village. They had reached the corner of the street that led to their hotel when they were arrested by a maudlin voice. "I'm all right, I tell you, Harve." Two men came out from beneath the shadow of the trees and could be seen dimly under the sickly gleam of a street light. One leaned heavily against the other. "Sure, you're all right," replied the drunken man's companion in a voice both recognized as that of Harvey Spencer. "I'm just going to see you as far as your house." He spoke in the voice people use in humoring drunken men and children. "I hain't drunk, Harve," insisted Harvey's companion. "Of course, you ain't," replied Harvey, "come on." "I'm just overcome with the heat. I--" The reeling man broke off suddenly. He saw Harry and Grogan. "Who the devil are you?" he demanded truculently. "My name is Harry Boland," replied the young man.