"That has to be carefully planned, and even more carefully executed. It seems to me that the mere fact of her wishing to go on the stage may be made a handle to serve our ends. If we can find a dramatic agent with whom she is in treaty, we must obtain a sheet of his office paper, and write her a letter in his name, making an appointment with her at an empty house in the country, some little distance from New York. None of the steps presents any great difficulty. In fact, all that part I undertake myself. It will be for you, your friend Mick, and Rachel Craik to receive her and keep her eternally when you once have her. You may then be able so to work upon her as to persuade her to go quietly with you to South America or England. In any case, we shall have shut her away from the world, which is our object." "Poor stuff! How about this Carshaw? Suppose he goes with her to keep the appointment, or learns from her beforehand of it? Carshaw must be wiped out." "He must certainly be dealt with, yes," said Meiklejohn, "but in another manner. I think--I think I see my way. Leave him to me. I want this girl out of New York State in the first instance. Suppose you go to the Oranges, in New Jersey, pick out a suitable house, and rent it? Go to-day." Voles raised his shaggy eyebrows. "What's the rush?" he said amusedly. "After eighteen years--" "Will you never learn reason? Every hour, every minute, may bring disaster." "Oh, have it your way! I'll fix Carshaw if he camps on my trail a second time." Meiklejohn returned to his car with a care-seamed brow. He was bound now for Mrs. Carshaw's apartment. If he was fortunate enough to find her in, and alone, he would take that first step in "dealing with" her son which he had spoken of to Voles. He made no prior appointment by phone. He meant catching her unawares, so that Rex could have no notion of his presence. Mrs. Carshaw was a substantial lady of fifty, a society woman of the type to whom the changing seasons supply the whole duty of man and woman, and the world outside the orbit of the Four Hundred is a rumor of no importance. She had met Senator Meiklejohn in so many places for so many years that they might be called comrades in the task of dining and making New York look elegant. She was pleased to see him. Their common fund of scandal and epigram would carry them safely over a cheerful hour. "And as to the good old firm of Carshaw--prosperous as usual, I hope," said Meiklejohn, balancing an egg-shell tea-cup. Mrs. Carshaw shrugged. "I don't know much about it," she said, "but I sometimes hear talk of bad times and lack of capital. I suppose it is all right. Rex does not seem concerned." "Ah! but the mischief may be just there," said Meiklejohn. "The rogue may be throwing it all on the shoulders of his managers, and letting things slide." "He may--he probably is. I see very little of him, really, especially just lately."