"I want to find out what you think about things--things in general--what you are going to do with the great wealth which is yours, what part you are going to play in the changing world. This business at Algoma--that's only a part of the whole. I want to find out what--well--what you really _are_?" Judith could have laughed aloud at the irony of the question which this uncouth stranger was putting to her. It was, almost to the words, the same question she had put to her brother not half an hour before. What did she think about things? Why were people suddenly so interested in what other people thought? But the similarity was not apparent to Roger. The question caused him no introspection: only anger. "What right have you to put such impudent questions to us, anyway," he demanded hotly. "Who the devil are you to intrude on us in this fashion? You'd best get out before I have you put out." The tall man made no move to rise from his chair as Roger stood threateningly above him. He merely turned his hands up in a quaint gesture of deprecation. "Bless your heart, young chap, _I'm_ not putting any questions. If you'll glance at my card, you'll notice that my business comes before my name. I'm simply the spokesman of a newspaper ..." "Newspaper!" sneered Roger. "Do you call that anarchist rag a newspaper?" But the other man refused to be interrupted. He proceeded equably. "And that newspaper, in turn, is simply the spokesman of the public. It's the public that wants to know _who_ you are--and _what_ you are--not I. Personally, to be quite candid, I don't care a farthing. But ..." "Well, and what right has the public to come prying into our private affairs?" interrupted Roger again. "It's none of their business. This is supposed to be a free country. Why don't you give law-abiding private citizens a little freedom and privacy? You force your way in where you aren't wanted and insult us and then say it's because the public wants to know. What business is it of the public's what we do and what we think?" The stranger smiled benignly. "My dear young man," he said calmly, as he folded up his newspaper and fitted it into his pocket. "That's old, old stuff. You're 'way behind the times. That rode into the discard on the tumbrels of the Revolution. As an individual, nobody cares a rap about you. As the possessor of a great fortune, the public is very keenly interested in your lightest thought. But I'm not going to attempt to give you a lesson in elementary history. Your sister can, I am sure, do that for me." He turned to her with the same galling indifference that had so offended Roger before. She could not but admire the assurance of his manner in the face of such open hostility. "Miss Wynrod," he went on calmly, "I do hope you will talk to me frankly. Won't you tell me what you honestly think of your relations, first to this business at Algoma, and then ..." "Don't say a word," interrupted Roger. "Remember the sheet he represents."