Rainey stared sulkily at the floor. “I think they’re here now--downstairs,” he answered. “Garrett generally hides them there till you’re out of the house.” “Indeed,” commented Gaylor dryly. “After Winthrop and Miss Coates have gone, I want to talk with your friends.” “Now, see here, Judge,” whined Rainey; “don’t make trouble. It isn’t as bad as you think. The old man’s only investigating--” “Hush!” commanded the Judge. From the bedroom, leaning on the butler’s arm, Stephen Hallowell came stumbling toward them and, with a sigh, sank into an invalid’s chair that was placed for him between the fire and the long library table.. He was a very feeble, very old man, with a white face, and thin, white hair, but with a mouth and lower jaw as hard and uncompromising as those of a skull. His eyes, which were strangely brilliant and young-looking, peered suspiciously from under ragged white eyebrows. But when they fell upon the doctor, the eyes became suddenly credulous, pleading, filled with self-pity. “I’m a very sick man, Doctor,” said Mr. Hallowell. Judge Gaylor bustled forward cheerily. “Nonsense, Stephen, nonsense,” he cried; “you look a different man this morning. Doesn’t he, Doctor?” “Sure he does!” assented Rainey. “Little sleep was all he needed.” Mr. Hallowell shook his head petulantly. “Not at all!” he protested. “That was a very serious attack. This morning my head hurts--hurts me to think--” “Perhaps,” said Gaylor, “you’d prefer that I talked to your niece.” “No!” exclaimed the invalid excitedly. “I want to see her myself. I want to tell her, once and for all--” He checked himself and frowned at the Doctor. “You needn’t wait,” he said. “And Doctor,” he added meaningly, “after these people go, you come back.” With a conscious glance at the Judge, Rainey nodded and left them. “No,” continued the old man; “I want to talk to my niece myself. But I don’t want to talk to Winthrop. He’s too clever a young man, Winthrop. In the merger case, you remember--had me on the stand for three hours. Made me talk too.” The mind of the old man suddenly veered at a tangent. “How the devil can Helen retain him?” he demanded peevishly. “She can’t retain him. She hasn’t any money. And he’s District Attorney too. It’s against the law. Is he doing it as a speculation? Does he want to marry her?” Judge Gaylor laughed soothingly. “Heavens, no!” he said. “She’s in his office, that’s all. When she took this craze to be independent of you, he gave her a position as secretary, or as stenographer, or something. She’s probably told him her story, her side of it, and he’s helping her out of charity.” The Judge smiled tolerantly. “He does that sort of thing, I believe.” The old man struck the library table with his palm. “I wish he’d mind his own business,” he cried. “It’s my money. She has no claim to it, never had any claim--” The Judge interrupted quickly.