HER JOURNEY'S END OF GALIF. MWARY. LOS ANGELES HER JOURNEY'S END BY FRANCES COOKE Author of "The Secret of the Green Vase," "My Lady Beatrice,' "The Unbidden Guest" etc. * NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO BENZIGER BROTHERS PUBLISHERS OF BENZIGER's MAGAZINE COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY BENZIOER BBOTHBB* CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. PROBLEMS 7 II. A STBANGE ENCOUNTER .... 19 III. LYNDHURST AFFAIRS 33 IV. RETROSPECTION 42 V. A MESSAGE UNDELIVERED 56 VI. GREGORY LACKLAND AT HOME ... 67 VII. THE DAYS BETWEEN 80 VIII. THE BIRD OF PASSAGE 91 IX. HELEN MAKES A PROMISE 108 X. A MESSAGE 119 XI. FACE TO FACE WITH THE ENEMY . . 130 XII. MARION SIGOGNE LEARNS SOMETHING . 142 XIII. GREGORY DEALS WITH PENNISTON . . 155 XIV. A SHOT IN THE DARK 168 XV. PAULINE'S DETERMINATION .... 182 XVL MRS. LACKLAND is STRICKEN .... 195 XVTL HELEN is DEFIANT 209 XVIII. MRS. SIGOGNE HAS A VISITOR .... 221 XIX. THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS .... 232 XX. EXTRADITION 250 XXI. DISASTER 261 XXIL IN THE TOILS 273 XXIII. RESCUE! 286 XXIV. AND LAST 299 5 2128914 HER JOURNEY'S END CHAPTER I PROBLEMS THE girl stood looking out of the sacristy win- dow, twisting her long gloves idly through her fingers, her glance, meanwhile, fastened on the hurrying men and women who were passing on to the big gray factories at the other end of the town. The shrill whistles which announced that the day of toil had begun sounded in her ears, piercingly, almost menacingly. As she watched, and the last, long-drawn-out note of the siren quivered and died on the crisp air, the street seemed to clear almost magically, for not to be inside those gates when the whistle ceased meant the loss of a day's work a thing no man or woman among them could afford. The girl, however, did not move as the street grew quiet, but stared out in abstracted fashion, and presently the low, hum- ming sound of countless machines fell on her ears. That sound roused her. She turned away with a low 8 PROBLEMS sigh, just as Father Richards bade adieu to some one at the door and came back into the sacristy a small, thin priest, with mild blue eyes, and a kind face to which the thick, snow-white hair above his forehead lent dignity and a certain austereness. "My dear girl," he began, with a pleasant smile, "I did not mean to keep you waiting. You have that long walk to Lyndhurst before you, and fast- ing, too! Won't you let Ann give you a cup of coffee?" "No, Father," said the girl. "I do not mind fasting that is the least one can do." She smiled then. "I am somewhat at a loss what to say, be- cause I do need your advice and don't know how to ask for it." "Come! That's good!" His kind blue eyes laughed at her. "Yesterday, on my way home from Mass, Mr. Williamson met me. Now, please don't look grave yet, Father. You know I've been to see his mother frequently this last month the poor, bedridden soul ! and I'm sure he knows how I feel toward toward everything. He said that they are going to call on my on Mrs. Lackland personally a com- mittee of them, over Mr. Boring's head. Did you know that?" PROBLEMS 9 "Yes I advised them to do that, Pauline." "Well. He seemed to feel that my intervention would help." "Did he say so?" "He implied as much." "And you " The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Fin not sure, Father. If it did not help a great deal, it would harm as much. Aunt Laura has such peculiar ideas about the factories she simply will not be advised or controlled or argued with " "I know that," said Father Richards. "I have spoken to her on more than one occasion." "That is it you understand," continued the girl. "I feel that she cares for me very much and several times I've mentioned well, little things. She has listened without comment . . . per- haps even with indulgence. But it hasn't amounted to anything." "Nor is it likely that it will," said Father Rich- ards slowly. "My advice to you would be to say nothing at all now, Pauline. If she is prepared for Williamson's visit, she may be on guard and perhaps a trifle prejudiced. You know she feels that you are scarcely a judge a girl just out of her teens " He smiled. 10 PROBLEMS "Then I'll run on. I felt just that way some instinct told me that, but I wanted your word as well. I should not like to think afterward that I could have done anything and would not." She drew her gloves on hastily. "I must be going Lyndhurst is a good three-quarters of an hour off " "You are sure you will not take some cof- fgg "Thank you, I positively do not care for any- thing, Father. Good morning." The priest smiled and nodded and then, as she left the room he went over to the high desk, from which he picked up his breviary absently. There was a new line of worry between the kind blue eyes, and he stood staring before him for some minutes. His housekeeper came along the hall and looked in at him inquiringly. She wanted to satisfy herself that no indiscreet caller was robbing Father Kichards of a much needed breakfast. Very much needed, indeed, for he had been called out twice since midnight. ***** The young girl made her way hurriedly through the lower part of the town, and went out past the cluster of cottages that bordered the "Lyndhurst road," as it was called. From here it was a brisk PROBLEMS 11 walk of half an hour to reach Lyndhurst itself. About the same time a young man of about her own age, with his gun slung over his shoulder, and whistling merrily, walked with brisk steps through the narrow path that led from the dense woods of Squaw Island to the shores lapped by the little bay Squaw Bay they called it, for the want of a better name. There was a slight breeze, which served but to make the morning more agreeable, and he threw back his head several times, inhaling the piney odor, so sharply intensified by the fresh- ness of a perfect October morning. There was a small skiff fastened to the shore. He threw his game-bag and gun down, and then sprang in himself. To reach the land opposite was but the work of a few moments, and then he vaulted over the low, rough stone wall that skirted a stretch of beautiful park land, dodging in and out between the trees to make a cross-cut toward the substantial gray stone mansion that seemed, in spite of its massive size, to lurk behind the giant maples that closely surrounded it. Here he seated himself on the terrace and lighted a cigar, puffing at it contentedly, while he drew a paper from his pocket and began to read. The whole appearance of the young man de- 12 PROBLEMS noted a certain refined elegance. He was some- what boyish of form, his features were open and frank, his eyes a clear dark brown, and his hair was a wavy chestnut. As is the way with some youths of twenty-one, he was rather vain of his personal appearance. Nor could he be blamed for this up to the present he had had little else to worry over. "Lucky that a cigar before breakfast does not spoil my appetite," he mused, half aloud. "And mother will not say that I don't do the meal jus- tice this morning. It certainly has been good sport " The noise of the opening and shutting of the gates at the entrance made him look up with some surprise. Then he saw through the trees a girlish form in a long, light coat, and he rose. "Out again, Pauline!" he said, as she ap- proached. "Where have you been?" "To town," she answered casually. She came up the steps and sat on the stone bench beside him. "To Mass. And then I waited to watch the people those hundreds and hundreds of people going to work in the factories. Your factories, Bertram." Pauline Faulkner was a year younger than Ber- PROBLEMS 13 tram Lackland, but her face was so childishly round, her lips so red and babyish, that she would have appeared less than twenty were it not for the grave expression of her eyes. Those eyes seemed to have mirrored thoughts that are not wont to youth, and a keen reader of character would have asserted that she had seen the hardships of life, if not felt them. At first sight, caught with the reserved, almost repressed, look that was habitual to her, she might not seem even pretty. But the fire of her spirit could kindle those eyes and cheeks to a glow of beauty. "You were out as early as I" she said, leaning back, for the sense of rest was grateful after her long walk. She pointed to the well-filled game- bag. "Wild duck! And the season opened only yesterday. You have lost no time." "I could not help it the morning was so beau- tiful She laughed. "Why, you are not trying to excuse yourself to me?" "For taking the exercise you recommended as necessary ? No, indeed !" "The best exercise in the world for a frivolous, vain youth." 14 PROBLEMS "Frivolous! Vain!" He was a little offended now. He sat looking at her, trying to read her expression. He had unusual respect for Pauline. He fancied that he himself was quite a student of the problems of the day and he could not un- derstand the slight mockery that crept into her manner when he would discuss any question of the sort with her. "Oh, I know you have a poor opinion of me, Pauline!" "I have no opinion at all," she said. "In the end you shall have," he said with con- viction. "Some day I will prove to you that I am able to grasp big things and carry them to exe- cution." The girl was silent, her eyes fixed on vacancy. What a contrast presented itself to her view in the streets filled with their hurrying throngs ; the shrill sound of the factory whistles in her ear and this cool, indolent, well-dressed, blase youth, who spoke of problems, and used the cant of those who would fain help the poor with words only. "What are you thinking of?" he asked, seeing that she did not mean to address him again. "Your mother," she answered. "Of the count- PROBLEMS 15 less tasks that fill out her day, of the huge inter- ests she controls, of what a mighty power she is in the commercial world. I was thinking of her and of the factories and of you." It was his turn to be silent then. "How little I know of these things/' he said half-musingly. "I wish I knew more yes, I wish that, and yet I could never grasp the subject as you would. With your past experience " A slight flush rose to her cheeks. She averted her face. "My past experience is a tabooed subject," she said, and there was an undercurrent of pain in her tones. "Do not speak of it ! I would forget that I have ever lived Oh! To obliterate from my memory all that lies between my fifth and my twentieth year from that day when I bade an un- conscious farewell to this, my country, to the day when I came back to it . . .a tired child. ..." Her voice died into silence. He was touched and penitent. "Forgive me, Pauline. I did not mean to hurt you." "I am trying to forget," she said wearily. "You must help me, for it is not easy, Bertram." Her eyes fell on the paper lying at her feet, and 16 PROBLEMS the scorn she could not repress crept into her voice once more as she read its name aloud. "Anarchical literature, that !" she said. "More work for poor Father Richards !" "Can you blame me for wanting to learn their creed first-hand ?" he said. "Julian Stanhope told me that this paper would prove a great help to me. You have never met Julian Stanhope, Pauline, but when you do I think you will understand the rea- son why I am inclined to take the socialistic view of matters which " "He can only repeat just what I have heard in every shape," she said. "How long have you known him, Bertram?" "Some months only he is a friend of Mrs. Sigogne's the chatelaine of The Pines. There will be another study for you, Pauline, even though Marion Sigogne has no interest in social prob- lems. But Stanhope is one of the most engaging of men. You and he will be in perfect accord." "You talk as if you knew just what my senti- ments are " "I have grown to understand them. I have cor- responded with the editor of that sheet you de- spise." He pointed toward it. "I can find noth- ing harmful in his assertions." PROBLEMS 17 "Bertram," said the girl gently, "I pity you. Oh, I know Fin younger than you a whole year younger. But no editor could convince me nor no acquaintance of a few months' standing could persuade me deliberately to inveigh against the traditions of law and order which my fathers left. You're doing that, deliberately. As for the creed of humanity, as they call it well, if you could go into the factories you'd find it there and I shall be surprised if it does not show itself in ugly fashion, to your detriment, some day. This Julian Stanhope is a much older man than you, is he not ? He ought tb be ashamed " "My dear girl ! If you think Julian Stanhope's ideas would cost him a moment's sacrifice, you are mistaken. He is not studying these things to put them into practice." "Oh ! I see !" She sat quiet a moment or two. Then she sighed. "Poor Father Richards!" she said then. "Poor Father Richards !" Bertram would have asked her what those words meant. He was looking at her with some admira- tion in his glance, for the discussion had brought a new light into her eyes and color to her cheeks. She was really lovely, he thought. At that mo- ment, however, a thin, clean-shaven man came 18 PROBLEMS out on the terrace through the open window. He approached the young people with some severity in his manner. "Breakfast has been announced," he said. "Mrs. Lackland has sent me to look for you." "Oh, Bertram!" cried the girl, "I must brush myself up a bit, or Aunt Laura will never forgive me. Say I shall be down in a second, Mr. Sands." With a laughing glance at the young man, she dis- appeared. Mr. Sands looked after her with dis- approval, even dislike on his face. Then he went inside again, and Bertram followed him. CHAPTER II A STRANGE ENCOUNTER FEW people outside those who had direct deal- ings with her knew that the sole owner and the head of the great cotton factories known as The Lackland Manufacturing Company was a woman. She occupied a unique position in the business world, and the immediate and allied branches of the business were practically unlimited. There were offices in all the leading European cities, and the product of the factories was known the coun- try over. Lyndhurst, the old gray stone mansion set well away from the busy town, had been built by Gregory Lackland before his death, so that he might be in close touch with the two big factories he had built in thriving New England, where the crops of his own fields in the South were converted into products famous not alone in the home mar- ket, but the markets of the world, typically Amer- ican in its wide-spreading interests. The present head of the enterprise was as coolly calculating, as far-seeing, and as rigidly conserva- tive as had been the founder, Gregory Lackland. In his lifetime his wife had worked beside and 10 20 A STRANGE ENCOUNTER with him, and he had profited many times by her advice. He left his affairs entirely in her hands at his death, which had occurred eleven years pre- vious to the opening of this story. His two sons, Gregory, Jr., just entering college and in his seven- teenth year, and Bertram, barely ten years old, could not then be considered factors in the manage- ment of the industry which was to perpetuate his name. He made no provision for them. His wife had begun his fortune with her own modest one, and had increased it largely since by her quick grasp of affairs. Therefore to her should be left the settlement of their children in life, her hus- band realizing that what she would do would be well done. An experienced traveler, it was Mrs. Lackland's habit to pay flying visits from one of her European offices to another, as the fancy took her. She was a good woman, though not in any sense a deeply religious one. She fulfilled the duties of life to the letter, and was exact in complying with the regu- lations of the Church, but there was a sense of incomprehension about it all, as if nothing had power to affect or touch her as if the real woman were successfully hidden. And yet she dearly loved her sons. Gregory, A STRANGE ENCOUNTER 21 who had been abroad since the completion of his studies, traveling at first, and then in charge of the London branch, was the hope of a somewhat vaguely planned future. She smiled at Bertram's extravagant notions, his vaunted brotherly equal- ity with all the human race, and gave a good- natured ear to what she deemed his "schoolboy raving." There had been a time in her life when she, too, had studied the problems of life which now seemed to fill the volatile mind of her son. She had studied them and pondered on them and cast them aside unsolved as Bertram would, she knew. She had returned from a somewhat protracted stay abroad about six months previous, and on this occasion, the young stranger, whom she intro- duced to every one as her niece, Pauline Faulkner, accompanied her. The coming of this new mem- ber of the household had been unexpected not even Bertram had known of her existence. She spoke English with an accent that seemed caught from many tongues, due, doubtless, to her peculiar upbringing, and to various foreign teachers; an accent which even the short space of six months had served to eradicate greatly, except when she grew excited. The servants, all old and trusted 22 A STRANGE ENCOUNTER members of the family, scarcely knew how to take her. She carried herself like a princess, and yet with a certain grave humility that made classifica- tion hard. To Mrs. Lackland she was all sweet- ness and affection. To Master Bertram, the easy- going, well-beloved young master, she gave scant courtesy, often unconcealed ridicule. She took a deep interest in Mrs. Lackland's affairs, and the older woman allowed her much liberty, so that presently she was known as well in the homes of the factory folk as if she had lived among them all her life. Strangely enough, this had earned her the dislike of several members of the household, Mr. Sands, Mrs. Lackland's secretary, being par- ticularly annoyed. The factories, which employed so many thou- sands of souls, seemed to be the girl's especial hobby. Yet, while Mrs. Lackland listened occa- sionally to her remarks concerning them, she was too self-satisfied, too well-assured, and too confi- dent of her own ability, to do more than listen. It would take a very powerful upheaval of the so- cial conditions surrounding her to persuade Laura Lackland that there was anything wrong with her mode of procedure. Her appearance, as she sat at the breakfast-table A. STRANGE ENCOUNTER 23 this morning, substantiated anything that might be said of her ability. She was a slender woman, a little above the medium height, with gray eyes set far apart, eyes neither large nor small, but suggestive of hidden power. The square forehead above them argued mentality, the firm chin and well-closed lips were determined without being masculine. She looked like a very clever, very positive, very proud woman and no one would say she was very sensitive or very yielding or very merciful. She had been born to rule and had carried out her destiny. "Good morning, mother/' said Bertram cheer- fully, as he entered the room and, as was his cus- tom, bent and kissed her. Mrs. Lackland sur- veyed him critically. "My dear lad! What a way to appear at the breakfast-table! Where in the world have you been?" "Over at Squaw Island since daybreak this morning, shooting. I will brush up and be with you in a jiffy." "Please don't keep me waiting, Bertram. I have an appointment at ten o'clock. Did you see Miss Pauline, Mr. Sands?" Mr. Sands, standing at the mantel with his 24 A STRANGE ENCOUNTER hands clasped behind his back, turned a severe face toward her. "Miss Pauline was on the terrace with Mr. Ber- tram," he said evenly. "She has gone to change her dress, as she has been down to the factories, I believe." He said this quite casually, although, as Mrs. Lackland's trusted, secretary, he had reason to know that, in spite of her seeming approval, these early morning jaunts annoyed his employer very much. There was a moment of silence. Bertram withdrew, not listening, and a slight frown ap- peared between the lady's finely curved black brows. "Mr. Doring is very much disturbed over this/' said Mr. Sands in a lower tone. "Perhaps it would be as well to ask Miss Pauline to stay " "Oh! She is a mere child a girl of twenty! What harm can it do? She must have some amusement and if this amuses her !" Mrs. Lack- land shrugged her shoulders. "We will soon have other things to occupy her spare time dances and parties and excursions. This fancy will wear off." "But Mr. Doring " "I can't help Mr. Doring. He will have to put up with it. Ah, Pauline !" as the young girl en- A. 8TKANOE ENCOUNTER 25 tered, with Bertram close behind. "I'm afraid I shall have to make the breakfast hour either earlier or later." She spoke playfully, and the girl's face lighted up. "Do, please, forgive me, Aunt Laura !" she said penitently. It was wonderful what a charm this softened expression gave to her young face. Her countenance in repose was so haughty as to be re- pellent. She seemed, usually, to look upon the world with disdain a world to which she meant little and in which she occupied but a small place. As she bent over the older lady, Mrs. Lackland took her face between her palms and kissed her on the lips. She had always desired a daughter, and none had been given her, so that this girl seemed to creep into a place in her heart that was ready to be filled. Then, yielding to her love of orderliness, she pushed back one or two rebellious curls from the white forehead. "Careless little girl," she said reprovingly. "Hare you been out without a hat? Come, come, let us have breakfast. It is getting too late in the year for these early morning walks, Pauline !" As kindly as were these words, they seemed to rouse quick resentment in the girl. She threw 28 A STRANGE ENCOUNTER back her head with the motion that a young, im- patient horse gives when it feels the rein. Mrs. Lackland poured out her coffee calmly and handed it to her, without pretending to see this movement. "You will waste time and sympathy to no pur- pose," she continued. "Believe me, my dear child, I speak from experience. People do not appreciate self-sacrifice." The girl pressed her lips together. Bertram, engrossed in his breakfast, paused an instant. "They must be educated up to it, mother dear. Are we not the people? Is it not our duty to ele- vate others to our level ?" "You talk like a book," said his mother testily. "I have spent forty years of my life among 'the people.' I may express myself with less elegance than you, but I think I know them better." An old servant entered then with letters, which he brought to Mrs. Lackland for distribution. She handed one to Bertram, who broke the seal hurriedly. "Why, it's from Gregory!" he cried. Pauline received no letters. Mrs. Lackland laid hers down beside her plate and continued the meal. The gray-haired servant paused at her side. "There is a committee of three men from the A 8TRANOE ENCOUNTER 27 East Shore factory," he said. "They want to see you." Mrs. Lackland frowned. "To see me? They must wait. Tell them so." "Yes, madam." "When Mr. Sands finishes his breakfast he will attend to them." "Yes, madam/' Pauline had listened eagerly, with parted lips and flushed cheeks. She bent forward as if to speak when the old servant left, but catching Mr. Sands' gaze fixed intently upon her, she refrained. Mrs. Lackland turned to the secretary. "More complaints, I suppose," she said grimly. "You have my orders. And let them wait don't hurry." Mr. Sands nodded quietly. He was master of sit- uations like these. Meantime Bertram, reading rapidly, gave vent to exclamations of joy. "Gregory is coming home, mother ! He has left the London office for good. He has already started." Mrs. Lackland looked grave. To see her dearly loved son again this would indeed be happiness. But she had meant him to master every detail of 28 A STRANGE ENCOUNTER her foreign business affairs what did this sudden whim on his part indicate? "Give me the letter," she said. "I hope he has left a suitable person in charge/' Mr. Sands leaned leisurely back in his chair, perusing the morning paper. The sight of him angered the impetuous young girl, who knew that anxious men in the hall below awaited his word. She rose and went to the sunny window, where Bertram followed her. "I am delighted that Gregory is coming," he said. "You will find in him a foeman worthy of your steel, Miss Pauline Faulkner. At least, you will not dare to say he lacks earnestness." "I shall know how to value earnestness," she said with a sarcastic inflection. "Gregory is really clever, Pauline. His knowl- edge is extensive." "His knowledge has done the factories and Lyndhurst much good," she replied. Mrs. Lackland looked up. The conversation had gone far enough. "Why do you defend your brother or praise him ?" she asked coldly. "And let me remind you both that Lyndhurst affairs are my affairs." Mr. Sands rose and left the room quietly. A STRANGE ENCOUNTER 29 Bertram said nothing. Pauline's sarcasm, his mother's reproof both of which he felt he had not deserved, angered him. He thrummed upon the window-pane. Pauline turned her face away. She was not thinking of this big boy in the sulks, but of the poor men waiting downstairs with anxious hearts. "I am going to my room," he said at last. "I shall write a good long letter to my friend Pennis- ton. At least, although I do not know him, there is one to whom I can open my heart." He spoke fretfully, petulantly. Pauline caught her breath sharply. "To whom of whom Penniston, you said? ..." Her voice shook in spite of her efforts at self-control. He knew he had startled her : he had meant to do so. "Penniston, the great leader of humanity the noble Penniston, who has given his life to the cause of the people, the editor of that paper which you despise so utterly, Miss Faulkner." "You write to him f her tones quivered. "Why not?" Pauline ignored the mockery in his voice. "If you knew him . . . you would not. You and he have nothing in common." 30 A STRANGE ENCOUNTER "He is a republican of the rankest sort. But that is his attraction to a man like me." "He is in danger of imprisonment at any hour, at any moment. It would not be well for a letter of yours to be found in his possession. This morn- ing when you spoke I did not know it was Pen- niston." "Pauline ! Were not you one of his followers ?" She crimsoned to the roots of her hair. "That is twice to-day you have reminded me of the past!" she said passionately. "Of which you know nothing, nothing! I wish I had never set foot across your threshold." Mrs. Lackland had listened without interrup- tion. She had had no idea that the conversation would end in this way. "My child ! Pauline ! How can you talk so ? Do I not love you as if you were my own?" The girl turned on her stormily. "But the poor waif is not grateful enough ! That is it! He speaks of Penniston . . . and you listen ... as if, as if . . ." she choked then. "Well, I shall go, I shall go quickly !" Quivering from head to foot, she left the room. Bertram stood dumbfounded. His mother glanced at his dismayed face. A STRANGE ENCOUNTER 31 "A difficult task," she said. "A difficult task to tame a character like that ! But we must be very gentle with her she has had a sad life of it, poor thing, a sad, sad life. You must help me to make her happy and contented, Bertram. As for Pen- niston," she frowned. "I do not want his name mentioned again. You are a foolish, thoughtless boy. Do you not know that he is Pauline's worst enemy ?" "Pauline's worst enemy!" The young man echoed the words. "You have told me that she left London to avoid him " "Then I did not tell you enough," she said. "How is it that you correspond with him?" "Why Stanhope recommended this paper," he pulled it out of his pocket. "I liked the sentiments of one of the articles and wrote to the editor, Penniston answered. He is brilliant witty." "So are all his kind," said Mrs. Lackland se- verely. "You will discontinue the paper at once, Bertram. More is involved in this than you imag- ine Pauline's whole future peace of mind, for one thing. And you will not write to him again. Promise me, my boy." "Why, yes," he said slowly. "You told me 32 A STRANGE ENCOUNTER Pauline's story, but you didn't tell me sufficient. Half-confidences are worse than none/' "Sometimes," she said briefly, tartly. "I did not feel that Pauline's story was your affair. At least, let this matter be ended here." Feeling a little humiliated, the young man left the room. CHAPTER III LYNDHURST AFFAIRS MRS. LACKLAND proceeded to open her letters while the servant cleared the breakfast-table. Presently Mr. Sands entered, a little flushed and plainly upset. "They will not talk to me, Mrs. Lackland. They insist on seeing you." "Who are they?" "Williamson, of the coloring floor, and three others I don't know their names, but Williamson is the leader. He said they will wait all day and come again to-morrow, and every day this week, until they can see you personally." "Such nonsense, such nonsense!" she said ir- ritably. "I will not see them. Tell them so posi- tively. They know my rule about complaints." Mr. Sands withdrew. Five minutes later he was back. "Shall I call up some of the servants to throw them out?" he began abruptly. "They are in the office, from which they refuse to stir, and you have an appointment with Martin's man in fifteen min- utes." 34 L7NDHUR8T AFFAIRS Mrs. Lackland rose to her feet. "Here are the letters," she said hastily. "I'll talk them over with you later. Give orders that if any caller comes before I am rid of these men he must wait in the library. But hurry I want a record of this interview." A minute later she swept into her office with a severe face, a forbidding manner. There were four men waiting, who rose as one at her entrance. Williamson, a young fellow of about twenty-eight, stepped forward. "You are Mr. Williamson?"