"What you have told me is of such importance I cannot go home to-night. I must see friends who will reach that newspaper in time to know what Van Meter can have printed. It may keep me the whole night." "Very well; it will not be the first night I have spent alone," she answered bitterly. "I will go with you to the elevated station, and will be home certainly early in the morning." They stepped from the study, and Gordon turned the electric switch, filling the room with a blaze of light. Van Meter and his men blinked in amazement at the sight of the preacher and his wife quietly walking toward them. "You contemptible old sneak!" he hissed. "How dare you crawl into this room to spy on me?" "I thought I had good reasons for being here," he spluttered, nervously clearing his throat. "Well, you thought a lie as your father, the devil, did before you." "Apparently a mistake somewhere," stammered the Deacon, looking sheepishly at Mrs. Gordon. "And I'd like to explain to you, sir, that I didn't bring that cat." "Well, cat or no cat, I give you a parting warning. We will not meet again in this church, and if I ever catch you sneaking around me I'll take a whip and thrash you as I would a cur, you little ferret-eyed imp of hell!" The Deacon cowered beneath the furious giant figure and beckoned to the detectives. Gordon and his wife passed by them and out into the night. CHAPTER XIII A BROKEN HEART-STRING The press next morning devoted entire pages to the sensation in the Pilgrim Church. Portraits of Gordon, his life and theories, sketches of the extraordinary scene in his pulpit, a full stenographic report of his address which he had carefully corrected at midnight, portraits of his wife and children, pictures of the old church, its reading-rooms, clubhouses and coffee-house, were exploited. His letter of resignation and the gift of a millon dollars for building a vast Temple of Humanity, that would be a forum of free thought in the heart of the metropolis, were the subject of separate editorials in every paper. Speculation as to the identity of this mysterious millionaire, who had apparently deserted the army of entrenched wealth to support this daring young revolutionist, filled columns. But it was all the wildest guessing. Many of the greater magnates hastened to deny with emphasis that they were in any way connected with the scheme. Several of them denounced the preacher as a dangerous man whose wild theories threatened social order. Gordon breathed a sigh of relief when he found not a line hinting at Kate Ransom's part in the drama or linking his name with hers. After two o'clock, when he finished his last conference with the reporters and his friends, he went to a hotel where he was not known. He spent the rest of the night pacing the floor fighting to a finish the battle between the memory of Ruth and his children and his fierce new passion.