When, at last, the owner of the store entered the office, hisface showed extreme irritation. He did not vouchsafe anygreeting to the secretary, who regarded him with an accurateperception of his mood. With a diplomacy born of longexperience, in her first speech Sarah afforded an agreeablediversion to her employer's line of thought.

　　"Mr. Hastings, of the Empire store, called you up, Mr. Gilder,and asked me to let him know when you returned. Shall I get himon the wire?"The man's face lightened instantly, and there was even thebeginning of a smile on his lips as he seated himself at thegreat mahogany desk.

　　"Yes, yes!" he exclaimed, with evident enthusiasm. The smile grewin the short interval before the connection was made. When,finally, he addressed his friend over the telephone, his toneswere of the cheerfulest.

　　"Oh, good morning. Yes, certainly. Four will suit meadmirably.... Sunday? Yes, if you like. We can go out afterchurch, and have luncheon at the country club." After listeninga moment, he laughed in a pleased fashion that had in it asuggestion of conscious superiority. "My dear fellow," hedeclared briskly, "you couldn't beat me in a thousand years.

　　Why, I made the eighteen holes in ninety-two only last week." Helaughed again at the answer over the wire, then hung up thereceiver and pushed the telephone aside, as he turned hisattention to the papers neatly arranged on the desk ready to hishand.

　　The curiosity of the secretary could not be longer delayed.

　　"What did they do with the Turner girl?" she inquired in anelaborately casual manner.

　　Gilder did not look up from the heap of papers, but answeredrather harshly, while once again his expression grew forbidding.

　　"I don't know--I couldn't wait," he said. He made a petulantgesture as he went on: "I don't see why Judge Lawlor bothered meabout the matter. He is the one to impose sentence, not I. I amhours behind with my work now."For a few minutes he gave himself up to the routine of business,distributing the correspondence and other various papers for theaction of subordinates, and speaking his orders occasionally tothe attentive secretary with a quickness and precision thatproclaimed the capable executive. The observer would haverealized at once that here was a man obviously fitted to thecontrol of large affairs. The ability that marches inevitably tosuccess showed unmistakably in the face and form, and in thefashion of speech. Edward Gilder was a big man physically,plainly the possessor of that abundant vital energy which is aprime requisite for achievement in the ordering of modernbusiness concerns. Force was, indeed, the dominant quality ofthe man. His tall figure was proportionately broad, and he washeavily fleshed. In fact, the body was too ponderous. Perhaps,in that characteristic might be found a clue to the chief faultin his nature. For he was ponderous, spiritually and mentally,as well as materially. The fact was displayed suggestively inthe face, which was too heavy with its prominent jowls andaggressive chin and rather bulbous nose. But there was nothingflabby anywhere. The ample features showed no trace of weakness,only a rude, abounding strength. There was no lighter touchanywhere. Evidently a just man according to his own ideas, yetnever one to temper justice with mercy. He appeared, and was, avery practical and most prosaic business man. He was not givento a humorous outlook on life. He took it and himself with theutmost seriousness. He was almost entirely lacking inimagination, that faculty which is essential to sympathy.

　　"Take this," he directed presently, when he had disposed of thematters before him. Forthwith, he dictated the following letter,and now his voice took on a more unctuous note, as of one who isappreciative of his own excellent generosity.

　　"THE EDITOR,"The New York Herald.

　　"DEAR SIR: Inclosed please find my check for a thousand dollarsfor your free-ice fund. It is going to be a very hard summer forthe poor, and I hope by thus starting the contributions for yourfine charity at this early day that you will be able toaccomplish even more good than usually.

　　"Very truly yours."He turned an inquiring glance toward Sarah.

　　"That's what I usually give, isn't it?"The secretary nodded energetically.

　　"Yes," she agreed in her brisk manner, "that's what you havegiven every year for the last ten years."The statement impressed Gilder pleasantly. His voice was moremellow as he made comment. His heavy face was radiant, and hesmiled complacently.

　　"Ten thousand dollars to this one charity alone!" he exclaimed.

　　"Well, it is pleasant to be able to help those less fortunatethan ourselves." He paused, evidently expectant of laudatorycorroboration from the secretary.

　　But Sarah, though she could be tactful enough on occasion, didnot choose to meet her employer's anticipations just now. Forthat matter, her intimate services permitted on her part somedegree of familiarity with the august head of the establishment.

　　Besides, she did not stand in awe of Gilder, as did the others inhis service. No man is a hero to his valet, or to his secretary.

　　Intimate association is hostile to hero-worship. So, now, Sarahspoke nonchalantly, to the indignation of the philanthropist:

　　"Oh, yes, sir. Specially when you make so much that you don'tmiss it."Gilder's thick gray brows drew down in a frown of displeasure,while his eyes opened slightly in sheer surprise over thesecretary's unexpected remark. He hesitated for only an instantbefore replying with an air of great dignity, in which was adistinct note of rebuke for the girl's presumption.

　　"The profits from my store are large, I admit, Sarah. But Ineither smuggle my goods, take rebates from railroads, conspireagainst small competitors, nor do any of the dishonest acts thatdisgrace other lines of business. So long as I make my profitshonestly, I am honestly entitled to them, no matter how big theyare."The secretary, being quite content with the havoc she had wroughtin her employer's complacency over his charitableness, nodded,and contented herself with a demure assent to his outburst.

　　"Yes, sir," she agreed, very meekly.

　　Gilder stared at her for a few seconds, somewhat indignantly.

　　Then, he bethought himself of a subtle form of rebuke byemphasizing his generosity.

　　"Have the cashier send my usual five hundred to the CharitiesOrganization Society," he ordered. With this new evidence of hisgenerous virtue, the frown passed from his brows. If, for afleeting moment, doubt had assailed him under the spur of thesecretary's words, that doubt had now vanished under his habitualconviction as to his sterling worth to the world at large.

　　It was, therefore, with his accustomed blandness of manner thathe presently acknowledged the greeting of George Demarest, thechief of the legal staff that looked after the firm's affairs.

　　He was aware without being told that the lawyer had called toacquaint him with the issue in the trial of Mary Turner.

　　"Well, Demarest?" he inquired, as the dapper attorney advancedinto the room at a rapid pace, and came to a halt facing thedesk, after a lively nod in the direction of the secretary.

　　The lawyer's face sobered, and his tone as he answered was tingedwith constraint.

　　"Judge Lawlor gave her three years," he replied, gravely. It wasplain from his manner that he did not altogether approve.

　　But Gilder was unaffected by the attorney's lack of satisfactionover the result. On the contrary, he smiled exultantly. Hisoritund voice took on a deeper note, as he turned toward thesecretary.

　　"Good!" he exclaimed. "Take this, Sarah." And he continued, asthe girl opened her notebook and poised the pencil: "Be sure tohave Smithson post a copy of it conspicuously in all the girls'

　　dressing-rooms, and in the reading-room, and in the lunch-rooms,and in the assembly-room." He cleared his throat ostentatiouslyand proceeded to the dictation of the notice:

　　"Mary Turner, formerly employed in this store, was to-daysentenced to prison for three years, having been convicted forthe theft of goods valued at over four hundred dollars. Themanagement wishes again to draw attention on the part of itsemployees to the fact that honesty is always the best policy....

　　Got that?""Yes, sir." The secretary's voice was mechanical, without anytrace of feeling. She was not minded to disturb her employer asecond time this morning by injudicious comment.

　　"Take it to Smithson," Gilder continued, "and tell him that Iwish him to attend to its being posted according to my directionsat once."Again, the girl made her formal response in the affirmative, thenleft the room.

　　Gilder brought forth a box of cigars from a drawer of the desk,opened it and thrust it toward the waiting lawyer, who, however,shook his head in refusal, and continued to move about the roomrather restlessly. Demarest paid no attention to the other'sinvitation to a seat, but the courtesy was perfunctory onGilder's part, and he hardly perceived the perturbation of hiscaller, for he was occupied in selecting and lighting a cigarwith the care of a connoisseur. Finally, he spoke again, and nowthere was an infinite contentment in the rich voice.

　　"Three years--three years! That ought to be a warning to the restof the girls." He looked toward Demarest for acquiescence.

　　The lawyer's brows were knit as he faced the proprietor of thestore.

　　"Funny thing, this case!" he ejaculated. "In some features, oneof the most unusual I have seen since I have been practicinglaw."The smug contentment abode still on Gilder's face as he puffed inleisurely ease on his cigar and uttered a trite condolence.

　　"Very sad!--quite so! Very sad case, I call it." Demarest wenton speaking, with a show of feeling: "Most unusual case, in myestimation. You see, the girl keeps on declaring her innocence.

　　That, of course, is common enough in a way. But here, it'sdifferent. The point is, somehow, she makes her protestationsmore convincing than they usually do. They ring true, as itseems to me."Gilder smiled tolerantly.

　　"They didn't ring very true to the jury, it would seem," heretorted. And his voice was tart as he added: "Nor to the judge,since he deemed it his duty to give her three years.""Some persons are not very sensitive to impressions in suchcases, I admit," Demarest returned, coolly. If he meant anysubtlety of allusion to his hearer, it failed wholly to piercethe armor of complacency.

　　"The stolen goods were found in her locker," Gilder declared in atone of finality. "Some of them, I have been given tounderstand, were actually in the pocket of her coat.""Well," the attorney said with a smile, "that sort of thing makesgood-enough circumstantial evidence, and without circumstantialevidence there would be few convictions for crime. Yet, as alawyer, I'm free to admit that circumstantial evidence alone isnever quite safe as proof of guilt. Naturally, she says some oneelse must have put the stolen goods there. As a matter of exactreasoning, that is quite within the measure of possibility. Thatsort of thing has been done countless times."Gilder sniffed indignantly.

　　"And for what reason?" he demanded. "It's too absurd to thinkabout.""In similar cases," the lawyer answered, "those actually guiltyof the thefts have thus sought to throw suspicion on the innocentin order to avoid it on themselves when the pursuit got too hoton their trail. Sometimes, too, such evidence has beenmanufactured merely to satisfy a spite against the one unjustlyaccused.""It's too absurd to think about," Gilder repeated, impatiently.

　　"The judge and the jury found no fault with the evidence."Demarest realized that this advocacy in behalf of the girl washardly fitting on the part of the legal representative of thestore she was supposed to have robbed, so he abruptly changed hisline of argument.

　　"She says that her record of five years in your employ ought tocount something in her favor."Gilder, however, was not disposed to be sympathetic as to amatter so flagrantly opposed to his interests.

　　"A court of justice has decreed her guilty," he asserted onceagain, in his ponderous manner. His emphasis indicated thatthere the affair ended.

　　Demarest smiled cynically as he strode to and fro.

　　"Nowadays," he shot out, "we don't call them courts of justice:

　　we call them courts of law."Gilder yielded only a rather dubious smile over the quip. Thismuch he felt that he could afford, since those same courts servedhis personal purposes well in deed.

　　"Anyway," he declared, becoming genial again, "it's out of ourhands. There's nothing we can do, now.""Why, as to that," the lawyer replied, with a hint of hesitation,"I am not so sure. You see, the fact of the matter is that,though I helped to prosecute the case, I am not a little bitproud of the verdict."Gilder raised his eyebrows in unfeigned astonishment. Even yet,he was quite without appreciation of the attorney's feeling inreference to the conduct of the case.

　　"Why?" he questioned, sharply.

　　"Because," the lawyer said, again halting directly before thedesk, "in spite of all the evidence against her, I am not surethat Mary Turner is guilty--far from it, in fact!"Gilder uttered an ejaculation of contempt, but Demarest went onresolutely.

　　"Anyhow," he explained, "the girl wants to see you, and I wish tourge you to grant her an interview."Gilder flared at this suggestion, and scowled wrathfully on thelawyer, who, perhaps with professional prudence, had turned awayin his rapid pacing of the room.

　　"What's the use?" Gilder stormed. A latent hardness revealeditself at the prospect of such a visitation. And along with thishardness came another singular revelation of the nature of theman. For there was consternation in his voice, as he continuedin vehement expostulation against the idea. If there washarshness in his attitude there was, too, a fugitive suggestionof tenderness alarmed over the prospect of undergoing such aninterview with a woman.

　　"I can't have her crying all over the office and begging formercy," he protested, truculently. But a note of fear lay underthe petulance.

　　Demarest's answer was given with assurance""You are mistaken about that. The girl doesn't beg for mercy.

　　In fact, that's the whole point of the matter. She demandsjustice--strange as that may seem, in a court of law!--andnothing else. The truth is, she's a very unusual girl, a longway beyond the ordinary sales-girl, both in brains and ineducation.""The less reason, then, for her being a thief," Gilder grumbledin his heaviest voice.

　　"And perhaps the less reason for believing her to be a thief,"the lawyer retorted, suavely. He paused for a moment, then wenton. There was a tone of sincere determination in his voice.

　　"Just before the judge imposed sentence, he asked her if she hadanything to say. You know, it's just a usual form--a thing thatrarely means much of anything. But this case was different, letme tell you. She surprised us all by answering at once that shehad. It's really a pity, Gilder, that you didn't wait. Why,that poor girl made a--damn--fine speech!"The lawyer's forensic aspirations showed in his honestappreciation of the effectiveness of such oratory from the heartas he had heard in the courtroom that day.

　　"Pooh! pooh!" came the querulous objection. "She seems to havehypnotized you." Then, as a new thought came to the magnate, hespoke with a trace of anxiety. There were always the reporters,looking for space to fill with foolish vaporings.

　　"Did she say anything against me, or the store?""Not a word," the lawyer replied, gravely. His smile ofappreciation was discreetly secret. "She merely told us how herfather died when she was sixteen years old. She was compelledafter that to earn her own living. Then she told how she hadworked for you for five years steadily, without there ever beinga single thing against her. She said, too, that she had neverseen the things found in her locker. And she said more thanthat! She asked the judge if he himself understood what it meansfor a girl to be sentenced to prison for something she hadn'tdone. Somehow, Gilder, the way she talked had its effect oneverybody in the courtroom. I know! It's my business tounderstand things like that. And what she said rang true. Whatshe said, and the way she said it, take brains and courage. Theordinary crook has neither. So, I had a suspicion that she mightbe speaking the truth. You see, Gilder, it all rang true! Andit's my business to know how things ring in that way." There wasa little pause, while the lawyer moved back and forth nervously.

　　Then, he added: "I believe Lawlor would have suspended sentenceif it hadn't been for your talk with him."There were not wanting signs that Gilder was impressed. But thegentler fibers of the man were atrophied by the habits of alifetime. What heart he had once possessed had been buried inthe grave of his young wife, to be resurrected only for his son.

　　In most things, he was consistently a hard man. Since he had noimagination, he could have no real sympathy.

　　He whirled about in his swivel chair, and blew a cloud of smokefrom his mouth. When he spoke, his voice was deeply resonant.

　　"I simply did my duty," he said. "You are aware that I did notseek any consultation with Judge Lawlor. He sent for me, andasked me what I thought about the case--whether I thought itwould be right to let the girl go on a suspended sentence. Itold him frankly that I believed that an example should be madeof her, for the sake of others who might be tempted to steal.

　　Property has some rights, Demarest, although it seems to begetting nowadays so that anybody is likely to deny it." Then thefretful, half-alarmed note sounded in his voice again, as hecontinued: "I can't understand why the girl wants to see me."The lawyer smiled dryly, since he had his back turned at themoment.

　　"Why," he vouchsafed, "she just said that, if you would see herfor ten minutes, she would tell you how to stop the thefts inthis store."Gilder displayed signs of triumph. He brought his chair to alevel and pounded the desk with a weighty fist.

　　"There!" he cried. "I knew it. The girl wants to confess.

　　Well, it's the first sign of decent feeling she's shown. Isuppose it ought to be encouraged. Probably there have beenothers mixed up in this."Demarest attempted no denial.

　　"Perhaps," he admitted, though he spoke altogether withoutconviction. "But," he continued insinuatingly, "at least it cando no harm if you see her. I thought you would be willing, so Ispoke to the District Attorney, and he has given orders to bringher here for a few minutes on the way to the Grand CentralStation. They're taking her up to Burnsing, you know. I wish,Gilder, you would have a little talk with her. No harm in that!"With the saying, the lawyer abruptly went out of the office,leaving the owner of the store fuming.