The iron doors of the elevator softly opened with a low click and two slender young men of decidedly foreign features stepped briskly out, accompanied by the tall, straight figure of Villard. They crossed the hall and ascended the broad stairway as if at home. The clothes of the younger men were fitted with extreme care. The waist line was gracefully modeled. It was evident that they both wore corsets. They walked with the quick, measured tread of the trained soldier. From their yachting caps it was evident they had just entered the house through the tunnel from the river landing. Their slight waxed mustaches particularly caught Vassar’s attention and brought a smile of contempt. Undoubtedly they were the pampered darlings of a foreign court, friends of Waldron’s whom he was cultivating for some purpose. The Congressman wondered what the devil they could be doing in America when all the Old World was at war? He also wondered who Villard was--Villard with his fierce upturned mustache after the style of von Hindenberg. They might be South Americans or from the Balkan states of course. Waldron’s banking house was one of the international group and his agents came from every corner of the globe. When they had passed Virginia quietly asked: “May I go downtown with you?” In the tumult of anger that still raged within over Waldron’s challenge the incongruity of the proposal struck him with new force. The offer seemed almost brazen. Under conditions of a normal environment it would have meant nothing more than a pretty attempt to console him in an hour of disappointment. Coming at the moment of his departure from the sinister establishment of the man he hated, it struck him as suggestive of a secret understanding between the two. His one desire now was to be alone and breathe clean air. “You’ll not like the long rough walk to the subway I’m afraid,” he protested. “You will not return in the car?” she asked in surprise. “I prefer to walk--” “You’ll do nothing of the kind,” she answered firmly. “You’ll go with me--and I’m not going to walk.” “You must excuse me”--he persisted. “I will not. And I’ll never speak to you again unless you obey my orders for this one afternoon at least.” He searched her face to see if she meant it, caught the look of determination and answered in quick tones of apology. “Of course, if you really wish it, you know that it will give me pleasure--” Virginia returned to the library, spoke to Waldron and in a few minutes they were again seated by each other’s side swiftly gliding down the Drive. “Stop at the Claremont,” she called to the chauffeur. “I’m starved. We would have had lunch served in the library if your lordship had not been so proud and particular--” “I couldn’t eat at Waldron’s table. I’d choke,” he answered in low tones.