"I should not bother you with anything except business. And as this is of a private nature, I must ask you to invite me to your room." Harlan led the way to the elevator. Linton did not remove his overcoat when they were closeted together. He stood with hat in his hand. "It may surprise you to learn that my business concerns Miss Presson and the legislative ball to-morrow evening," began Linton, but Harlan indignantly broke in. "You can have no possible business with me, sir, in which Miss Presson's name may be mentioned. Don't you use her name--not in any way. Do you understand?" "I understand this: I know what I'm talking about and exactly why I've come here, and you're going to listen. Miss Presson has accepted your escort to the ball to-morrow evening. Don't you know, Thornton, why you can't take Madeleine Presson into public, this whole State looking on? I hate to say any more than that. I don't think it's necessary for me to say any more than that!" His face was hard, his tone accusing. "I tell you, you have no right to mention Miss Presson to me!" cried the other. "I'm taking it on myself, and I'm giving you a chance by doing it," retorted Linton. "The story is bad enough now. But you'll be drummed out of this State if you insult an innocent girl in the way you plan to do." In his indignation Thornton had been slow to grasp the fact that his rival was making hints that both affronted and threatened. His conscience accused him of nothing. He felt the crackle of paper in his breast-pocket. He promptly suspected that Linton had gleaned a hint of the proposed legislation which would involve Madeleine's father. He tried to control his anger. "Will you kindly explain to me by just what right you say this," he sneered--"except, possibly, that you're jealous because Miss Presson chose me as her escort." "I have a right as a friend of her mother, if nothing else! I am keeping this thing as still as I can for your sake, for in this case protecting you means protecting her. I don't want to say any more! But sudden illness must prevent you from accompanying Miss Presson into public at that ball." Harlan beat a palm upon his own breast. "I've had enough of this, Linton. You tell me what you're driving at." It was plain that Linton hated to be more explicit. This culprit did not seem to quail before vague accusation, as he had expected him to do. He was faced by a young man whose face was lighted by wrath, curiosity, and kindred emotions that were obviously not those of guilt.