"Son, I'm a wise old guy. There's not much that goes on in Middleville I don't get on to. And I'll make your hair curl. But I'll confine myself to what comes closest home to you. I _get_ you, Lane. You're game. You're through. You have come back from war to find a hell of a mess. Your own sister--your sweetheart--your friend's brother and your soldier pard's sister--on the primrose path! And you with your last breath trying to turn them back! I'll say it's a damn fine stunt. I'm an old gambler, Lane. I've lived in many towns and mixed in tough crowds of crooked men and rotten women. But I'm here to confess that this after-the-war stuff of Middleville's better class has knocked out about all the faith I had left in human nature.... Then you came along to teach me a lesson." "Well, Pepper, that's strong talk," returned Lane. "But cut it, and hurry to--to what comes home to me. What's the matter with these Middleville girls?" "Lane, any intelligent man, who _knows_ things, and who can think for himself, will tell you this--that to judge from the dress, dance, talk, conduct of these young girls--most of them have _apparently_ gone wrong." "You include our nice girls--from what we used to call Middleville's best families?" "I don't only include them. I throw the emphasis on them. The girls you know best." Lane straightened up, to look at his companion. Pepper certainly was not drunk. "Do you know--anything about Lorna?" "Nothing specifically to prove anything. She's in the thick of this thing in Middleville. Only a few nights ago I saw her at a roadhouse, out on the State Road, with a crowd of youngsters. They were having a high old time, I'll say. They danced jazz, and I saw Lorna drink lemonade into which liquor had been poured from a hip-pocket flask." Lane put his head on his hands, as if to rest it, or still the throbbing there. "Who took Lorna to this place?" he asked, presently, breathing heavily. "I don't know. But it was Dick Swann who poured the drink out of the flask. Between you and me, Lane, that young millionaire is going a pace hereabouts. Listen," he went on, lowering his voice, and glancing round to see there was no one to overhear him, "there's a gambling club in Middleville. I go there. My rooms are in the same building. I've made a peep-hole through the attic floor next to my room. Do I see more things than cards and bottles? Do I! If the fathers of Middleville could see what I've seen they'd go out to the asylum.... I'm not supposed to know it's more than a place to gamble. And nobody knows I know. Dick Swann and Hardy Mackay are at the head of this club. Swann is the genius and the support of it. He's rich, and a high roller if I ever saw one.... Among themselves these young gentlemen call it the Strong Arm Club. Study over that, Lane. Do you _get_ it? I know you do, and that saves me talking until I see red." "Pepper, have you seen my sister--there?" queried Lane, tensely. "Yes." "With whom?"