"Dr. McMutrie has been very kind," went on Paula; "he seemed to realize instinctively that Dr. Zacharie was against me. That fact alone enlisted his sympathy." "Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Marsh, who had somewhat recovered from her agitation, "Dr. McMutrie is an exceptionally nice man. One doesn't often meet such men nowadays." With a mischievous glance at Tod, she added: "He's almost as nice as my son, don't you think so, Paula?" Understanding her meaning, the girl blushed, and the alert Tod, quick to seize the psychological moment, thought this as good a time as any to put to words what his eyes had already told her eloquently enough: "Paula," he whispered, "I----" "Hush!" said Mr. Ricaby warningly. "Here's Mr. Cooley!" Bascom Cooley, head erect and defiant as ever, came slowly down the stairs and glared savagely at each individual member of the group gathered in the office waiting for him. He knew that he was checkmated, that his reign of terror was ended, that the Marsh millions had slipped out of his grasp, but still he would not acknowledge defeat. They thought they had trapped him, did they? Well, he would show them that the old fox was too cunning for them. He stood in silence, waiting for someone to speak. Finally, Mr. Ricaby stepped forward. His face was pale, but his voice firm as he said: "Bascom Cooley, I suppose Mr. Marsh has already told you that we know. There is no use mincing matters. You and James Marsh will have to answer to the proper authorities for as damnable and wicked a criminal conspiracy as was ever plotted in the history of the State. In your greed for gold you have deliberately done a great wrong. You have committed subornation of perjury, you have wilfully concocted and distorted evidence, all for the sordid miserable purpose of securing dishonestly the control of funds belonging to another. Believing that your political influence would hold you immune, you have outraged every law of order and decency. You have robbed both the public and the individual. You have become rich on the sufferings of those you have victimized. There is hardly a crime in the calendar that may not be laid at your door. Your past career is a matter of public record. Until now you have gone scot-free. People knew of your misdeeds, your turpitudes were a matter of common gossip, but everybody was afraid of you, afraid to denounce you. They lacked proof. But now it is different. We have the proofs at last. To-morrow your disgrace will be blazoned forth in flaming 'scareheads' on the front page of every newspaper in the land. You are a contemptible person--not worthy to be called a man! You are a disgrace to the profession of which I myself have the honor to be an humble member. But your day of reckoning is close at hand. In the case of this poor unfortunate girl your greed has overreached itself. You went too far--so far that, at last, your fellow conspirator refused to follow you any longer. He has turned State's evidence. He will help