He was devil-may-care in his manner as he listlessly turned over his morning mail, thrusting his pistol back into the bank portmanteau. The sight of the familiar case recalled to him his dangerous position. "I must play my policy game softly now," he mused. "Whatever happens, I must meet Ferris smoothly; but once that Jack Witherspoon is safely out of town to the West, I'll have him face up old Hugh. It's either life with Irma, or death without her!" Mechanically carrying on his routine, he opened his mail, after exchanging a few careless words with Somers over the "new deal" in the company's management. "I shall get your bank deposits ready early," kindly said old Somers. "I'm glad to see you looking better. I go away at noon for the three-days' holiday. You can keep the bank-book, and we can get the exchange Tuesday at noon. "I will finish my trial balance papers while I'm up at Greenwich. I'm only a stray few cents out." And then Ralph Somers told Clayton of the month's gratuity. "I guess I'll go in for a gay old Fourth!" cheerfully said Clayton, who picked up a telegram just brought in by a boy. His face softened strangely as he read words which waked all the happy memories of his lonely boyhood. Here, at last, vas a message from the woman who had been the "Little Sister" of the few bright years of his shaded life. And her truthful, girlish face rose up before him again, as he read the words which touched his wavering heart. The dispatch was from Hugh Worthington at Tacoma, and the old fox had well chosen the only way to disarm Clayton's watchful suspicions. The words seemed frank enough, and Randall Clayton's fingers trembled with a certain pleasurable thrill as he read. "She still thinks of me, poor Little Sister, after all these years of estrangement. Perhaps only the greed of gold lies behind the whole thing. He seized a telegraph blank and studied over his reply. "What shall I wire to him?" the puzzled man vainly demanded. He tried to mark out the false and true between the words of father and daughter. It all seemed fair enough in a way, according to their different natures. "Tacoma, July 2, 1897. "Come at once to Cheyenne. Am leaving here to join you. Alice wishes to see you particularly before she sails for Japan. Take a month's leave. Turn your cash business over to Secretary Edson. You can go back to Pacific Coast with me after seeing our ranches. If you don't like assignment out West, you can go back to New York. Telegraph me to Cheyenne date of your arrival, and also answer Alice. Palace Hotel, Tacoma. Don't fail. Imperative." Randall Clayton was left without lights to guide. "By Heavens!" he cried. "Jack has surely been deceived as to the marriage. I must answer Hugh. I dare not leave Alice without an answer. And Jack only three days away!" After a half-hour's study he sprang from his chair.