At the sound of McNally's voice Katherine started guiltily. It had not occurred to her that the matter would be discussed downstairs; usually her father's private conversations were held in his den on the second floor. She wondered whether she ought to make herself known. Then she heard McNally again, answering a low-spoken question from her father. “He was a good man, or perhaps you would call him a bad one. He was just getting down to work on the vault door when West and his gang of Pinkertons broke in on him and nailed him.” Another question from Porter. “No, Porter, they are on to us now. You see, the books are gone, and there's no use in trying to get hold of that end of the road; but we can seize it from this end and get everything except their building.” With cheeks burning and with conscience troubling, Katherine rose and stood before the window. “I didn't intend to put myself in your way,” she said, laughing nervously, “but I couldn't help hearing.” Looking in through the dim light Katherine thought she saw McNally start. After a brief but embarrassing pause Porter spoke, using the tone Katherine associated with the stern but kindly rebukes of her childhood. “Did you hear all we said, Katherine?” “Most of it, I'm afraid.” “You understand, dear, that this is very confidential business?” “Yes, dad.” With an impulsive start Katherine seated herself on the low sill of the window and clasped her hands in her lap. “I wish you would let me talk it over with you. You know I am interested in your affairs, dad. And,” hesitatingly, “maybe I can help you.” For a space all three were silent. Katherine was leaning back in a pose that brought out all her unconscious beauty. The waning light fell full upon her, and the sunset seemed to be faintly reflected in her face. Her hair was coiled above her forehead in easy disorder. McNally, sitting back in the shadow, looked fixedly at her, and as he looked it seemed to him that her beauty spiced the atmosphere. He found himself drawing in his breath keenly and almost audibly, and gripping the arms of the easy-chair: with a sudden half-amused feeling of boyishness he relaxed his grip and leaned back comfortably. It was some time since the introspective Mr. McNally had found it necessary to reprove himself for such a slip of demeanor. “I couldn't help seeing what was going on,” continued Katherine. “And you told me the other day that I had helped you some.” She turned appealingly toward her father, who sat with head lowered, scowling at the carpet. McNally broke the pause. “There is very little we can tell you, Miss Katherine. A business matter of this importance is too complicated for any one who has not grown up with the problems. It would involve the history of two railroads for years back.”