"PARIS, September 6th. The members of Dom Corria De Sylva's family, seen early this morning at the Hotel Continental, deny that any lady connected with the cause of Brazilian freedom took part in the attempted rescue of the ex-President. They are much annoyed by the unfounded report, and hold strongly to the opinion that the revolution would now have been a _fait accompli_ had not a traitor revealed the destination of the _Andros-y-Mela_ and thus led to that vessel's detention at Bahia." The lady! Iris Yorke! At last David's supercharged mind was beginning to assimilate ideas. He was conscious of a fierce pain in the region of his heart. The buzzing in his head continued, and the journalist's voice came to him as through a dense screen. "You will observe that the former President's relatives tacitly admit that there was a plot on foot," the other was saying. "It is important to note, too, that the long message from Pernambuco, marked 'delayed in transmission' seems to imply a prior telegram which was suppressed. It alludes to a revolt of which nothing is known here. Now, Mr. Verity, I want to ask you----" The door was flung open. In rushed Dickey Bulmer with a speed strangely disproportionate to his years. In his hands he held a crumpled newspaper. "You infernal blackguard, have you seen this?" he roared, and his attitude threatened instant assault on the dazed man looking up at him. The reporter moved out of the way. Here, indeed, was "copy" of the right sort. Bulmer held a position of much local importance. That he should use such language to the owner of the _Andromeda_ promised developments "of the utmost public interest." David stood up. His chair fell over with a crash. He held on to the table to steady himself. Even Bulmer, white with rage, could not fail to see that he was stunned. But Dickey was not minded to spare him on that account. "Answer me, you scoundrel!" he shouted, thrusting the paper almost into David's face. "You are glib enough when it suits your purpose. Were _you_ in this? Is this the reason you didn't tell me Iris was on board till I forced the truth out of you last night?" The managing clerk came in. Behind him, a couple of juniors and the office boy supplied reenforcements. They all had the settled conviction that their employer was a rogue, but he paid them in no niggardly fashion, and they would not suffer anyone to attack him. This incursion from the external world had a restorative effect on Verity. Being what is termed a self-made man, he had a fine sense of his own importance, and his subordinates' lack of respect forthwith overcame every other consideration. "Get out!" he growled, waving a hand toward the door. "But, sir--please, gentlemen----" stuttered the senior clerk. "Get out, I tell you! D--n yer eyes, 'oo sent for any of you?"