This unexpected interruption by an unknown man in uniform, together with the appearance of a stern-faced man in spectacles at an upper window, had an instant effect on the crowd. The strikers began to slink out of the yards, while the three assaulted men dusted their clothes and entered the factory. Quin followed them in, and upon inquiring for the office was directed to the second floor, where he followed devious ways until he reached the door of a large room filled with desks in rows, at each of which sat a clerk. "Mr. Bangs?" repeated a red-nosed girl, in answer to his inquiry. "Got an appointment?" "No," said Quin; "but I've got a parcel that's to be delivered in person." The red-nosed one thereupon consulted the man at the next desk, and, after some colloquy, conducted Quin to one of the small rooms at the rear of the large one. The next moment Quin found himself face to face with the stern-looking personage whose mere appearance at the window a few minutes before had had such a subduing effect on the crowd below. As he listened to Quin's message he looked at him narrowly and suspiciously with piercing black eyes that seemed intent on seeking out the weakest spot of whatever they rested upon. "When did Mr. Bartlett give you these letters?" he asked in a tone as cold as the tinkle of ice against glass. "I got 'em last night, sir." "Where?" "At his house, when I went to carry word about his mother's accident." "Close that door back of you," said Mr. Bangs, with a jerk of his head; then he went on, "So Mr. Bartlett was at home when you reached there last night?" "Oh, _yes_, sir!" Quin assured him with an emphasis that implied Mr. Randolph Bartlett's unfailing presence at his own fireside on every Sabbath evening. "That is strange," Mr. Bangs commented dryly. "Miss Enid Bartlett telephoned an hour ago that her brother and his wife were out of the city." Quin was visibly embarrassed. He was not used to treading the quicksands of duplicity, and he felt himself sinking. "Young man," said Mr. Bangs sternly, "I am inclined to think you are deceiving me." "No," said Quin with spirit, "I haven't deceived you; but I did lie to Miss Eleanor's aunt over the telephone." "What was your object?" "Well, I couldn't tell her Mr. Bartlett was stewed, could I?" Mr. Bangs gave a short, contemptuous laugh. "As I thought," he said. "That will do." But Quin had no intention of going until he had spoken a word in his own behalf. The idea had just occurred to him that by obtaining a position with Bartlett & Bangs he could add another link to the chain that was to bind him to Eleanor. "You don't happen to have a job for me?" he inquired of the back of Mr. Bangs's bald, dome-like head. "A job?" repeated Mr. Bangs, glancing over his shoulder at Quin's uniform. "Yes, sir. I'm out of the service now." "What can you do?" Quin looked at him quizzically. "I can receive and obey the orders of the commanding officer," he said.