"I beg your pardon," said Van Guilder, coldly, "this is my house and I shall do with it as I like. I have bought it and I shall make a home for my horses of it by morning. It cannot possibly be any business of yours." "No business of mine!" shouted Woodlas, "what security have I but the mortgage? And if you go on with this cursed gutting the mortgage won't be worth a dollar. Oh, my beautiful house! My beautiful house! It is awful, awful! Come on, sir," he yelled to Gordon Montcure, "I will find a way to stop the blooming idiot!" With that he rushed out of the house and rolled into the carriage, Gordon Montcure following. Together the two men were driven furiously to the office of Vinson Harcout, counsellor for the Shoe Trust. That usually placid and unexcitable gentleman turned round in astonishment as the two men bolted into his private office. Woodlas dropped into a chair and, between curses and puffs of exhaustion, began to describe his trouble. When the lawyer had finally succeeded in drawing from the irate old man a full understanding of the matter, he leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well," he said, "this is an unfortunate state of affairs, but there is really no legal remedy for it. The title to the property is in Mr. Van Guilder. He is in possession by due and proper process of law, and he can do as he pleases, even to the extent of destroying the property utterly. If he chooses to convert his residence into a stable, he certainly commits no crime and simply exercises a right which is legally his own. It is true that you have such equitable interest in the property that you might be able to stop him by injunction proceedings--we will try that at any rate." The attorney stopped and turned to his stenographer. "William," he said, "ask the clerk if Judge Henderson is in the court-room." The young man went to the telephone and returned in a moment. "Judge Henderson is not in the city, sir," he said. "The clerk answers that he went to Boston early in the day to meet with some judicial committee from New York and will not return until to-morrow." The lawyer's face lengthened. "Well," he said, "that is the end of it. We could not possibly reach him in time to prevent Mr. Van Guilder from carrying out his intentions." Gordon Montcure smiled grimly. Mason had promised to inveigle away the resident judge by means of a bogus telegram, and he had done so. "Oh!" wailed the little fat man, "is there no law to keep me from being ruined? Can't I have him arrested, sir?"