"Does it hurt you much, John?" inquired Grogan, enjoying the other's discomfiture. For answer the elder Boland scrutinized Grogan over his glasses. "What do you know about this, Mike?" he demanded. "Only that I got one of those blue bombs myself this morning," retorted Grogan. "Listen to this." John Boland flourished the envelope angrily. "'The owner of property who leases same to vice is morally responsible for the crimes committed on his premises. Mary Randall.'" He turned to Grogan. "What do you think of that?" he asked. "She's hit home," replied Grogan grimly. "Damn her, for a brazen busybody," blurted Boland angrily. "Why doesn't she mind her own business?" Meanwhile Harry was opening an envelope the exact counterpart of his father's. He read the note twice and stood considering its import. "Another of 'em?" said the elder Boland. "Well, what's yours, Harry?" "Mine?--Oh,--mine--why," the young man faltered. "Well, well, can't you speak?" demanded the father irritably. Harry returned no direct reply. Opening his note he read: "'We count on young men like you, Harry Boland, to lead the fight we are making to save our Little Lost Sisters. Mary Randall.'" "Now," chuckled Grogan, "you know how I felt when I got my little blue envelope this morning." As he spoke he tore off the end of the envelope which he had held unnoticed. Inserting his finger and thumb into the envelope he went on: "Do you know, I never did like the color of blue--" He broke off as he lowered his eyes to the enclosure he had brought out. It was another blue letter. Grogan started up and jerked out the note. Holding it at arms' distance he read: "'The strength of Ireland is in the purity of her sons and daughters. Mary Randall.'" The three men stood staring at each other in amazement. "Mary Randall." John Boland broke the silence with a sneer. "Mary Randall," repeated Harry quietly. "Oh you Mary Randall!" put in Grogan with just a touch of admiration in his voice. "She's the lady champion lightweight. Three knock-outs in three minutes. 'Tis a world's record!" He turned to the elder Boland. "Does the punch she gave you hurt much?" he inquired. Boland glared at Grogan. "Who the devil is Mary Randall?" he demanded. "I've never met her," replied Harry. "She's a member of the wealthy Randall family. Her mother died when she was young and I understand she was brought up very quietly." "Do you know her, Miss Masters," persisted Boland. The girl was startled, "I--why--I?" she hesitated. "Yes--yes," said Harry, "do you know her?" The girl still hesitated and Grogan broke in. "You're a woman, Miss Masters," he said, "you ought to know all the feminine quirks. Now it's up to you. Who's Mary Randall?" "Mary Randall is a wealthy girl," said Miss Masters calmly. "She has grown weary of the foolish methods you men have employed in attacking the vice problem. Convinced of your total incompetence she has started out really to do something."