All the same a mild surprise was contained in the second letter. It was an invitation for a week-end in the country, “to meet some rather interesting people.” Mr. Hartz permitted himself a faint smile. The socially gifted Mrs. Carburton was a power in the land, but emphatically she belonged to “the other camp.” Strictly speaking, the Colossus was far too big to belong to a camp. Mrs. Carburton did not belong to one either; but of late years they had not set each other’s genius. The famous châtelaine of Doe Hill made no secret of her belief that the U. P. had deliberately wrought the ruin of one of her rather numerous protégées. She was known to have a deep dislike for Saul Hartz. But she was important enough as the world went for an invitation to Doe Hill to be not without piquancy even for him. Should he accept it? Why not? His attitude of slightly contemptuous indifference towards women in general was his attitude towards this woman, but she was a mine of information, and she made a hobby of gracing her table with the most interesting people in Europe. And for those alive to the lure of sex, her power of attraction was undoubted. Few men would have denied that Rose Carburton was, in her way, a siren. Mr. Hartz was still in the valley of decision, this letter in hand, when Helen Sholto came into the room. Some two years before, on one of his brief but frequent trips across the Atlantic, he had found this remarkably able girl doing odd jobs in the New York office. Taken at once by her personality, he had brought her to London as one of several confidential secretaries, to whom, however, he never opened his mind; and in a post that was no sinecure she had discovered a feminine quick-thinking competence that had proved of high value. Moreover, Helen herself, with her charm, her high spirits, her good looks, seemed to relieve even the gloom and the grime of Cosmos Alley. The great man had this morning, as usual, a cordial greeting, a benign smile, to offer her. But it hardly called for his abnormal powers of observation to see at once that something was wrong. His greeting was returned with a slight bow. Her face was grave and set. And in prompt response to the question in his eyes, she said without a word of preface in a low voice, “I wish to give formal notice to terminate my engagement here.” Saul Hartz’s answer was to drum gently with a pencil on his blotting pad. “I think it’s cruel!” Her eyes filled suddenly with tears. “The speech is in all the papers this morning. And the _Planet_ has a leading article ... after your promise!” The Colossus gazed at her impassively, and then he said, in that peculiar soft tone that now made her shiver. “Sit down, my dear child, and compose yourself. There’s something I have to say to you.” Against her own reluctant will, Helen took a chair at the side of his desk, towards which he pointed.