"Better remain out here on the balcony," replied the congressman nervously, as he moved toward the railing.

Ames laughed and shrugged his enormous shoulders. He understood the man's repugnance fully. But he humored him.

"You know, Wales," he said easily, going to the railing and peering over at the brilliant a.s.semblage below, "if I could get the heathen Chinee to add an extra half-inch to his shirt length, I'd make a hundred millions. And then, perhaps, I wouldn't need to struggle with your Ways and Means Committee as I do. By the way, the cotton schedule will be reported out unchanged, I presume." He turned and looked quizzically at his companion as he said this.

Wales trembled slightly when he replied to the question he had been awaiting. "I think not, Mr. Ames."

The giant's face clouded. "Parsons will vote for it," he said suggestively. "What will you do?"

The congressman hesitated. "I--the party, Mr. Ames, is committed to the high tariff principle. We can not let in a flood of foreign cotton--"

"Then you want the fight between the farmers and spinners to continue, eh?" interposed Ames cynically. "You don't seem to realize that in the end both will get more money than they are getting now, and that it will come from the consumer, who will pay vastly higher for his finished products, in addition to the tariff. Do you get me?"

"It is a party principle, Mr. Ames," returned the congressman tenaciously.

"Look here, Wales," said Ames, turning savagely upon his companion.

"The cotton farmers are organizing. They have got to be stopped. Their cooperative a.s.sociations must be smashed. The tariff schedule which you have before your Committee will do it. And you are going to pa.s.s it."

"Mr. Ames," replied the congressman, "I--I am opposed to the constant manipulation of cotton by you rich men. I--"

"There," interrupted Ames, "never mind explaining your conscientious scruples. What I want to know is, do you intend to cast your vote for the unaltered schedule?"

"N--no, Mr. Ames, I can't--"

"H'm," murmured Ames. Then, with easy nonchalance, turning to an apparently irrelevant topic as he gazed over the railing, "I heard just before coming from my office this evening that the doors of the Mercantile Trust would not open to-morrow. Too bad! A lot of my personal friends are heavily involved. Bank's been shaky for some time. Ames and Company will take over their tangible a.s.sets; I believe you were interested, were you not?" He glanced at the trembling man out of the corners of his eyes.

Wales turned ashen. His hands shook as he grasped the railing before him and tried to steady himself.

"Hits you pretty hard, eh?" coolly queried Ames.

"It--it--yes--very hard," murmured the dazed man. "Are you--positive?"

"Quite. But step into the waiting room and 'phone the newspapers. They will corroborate my statements."

Representative Wales was serving his first term in Congress. His election had been a matter of surprise to everybody, himself included, excepting Ames. Wales knew not that his detailed personal history had been for many months carefully filed in the vaults of the Ames tower.

Nor did he ever suspect that his candidacy and election had been matters of most careful thought on the part of the great financier and his political a.s.sociates. But when he, a stranger to congressional halls, was made a member of the Ways and Means Committee, his astonishment overleaped all bounds. Then Ames had smiled his own gratification, and arranged that the new member should attend the formal opening of the great Ames palace later in the year. Meantime, the financier and the new congressman had met on several occasions, and the latter had felt no little pride in the attention which the great man had shown him.

And so the path to fame had unrolled steadily before the guileless Wales until this night, when the first suspicions of his thraldom had penetrated and darkened his thought. Then, like a crash from a clear sky, had come the announcement of the Mercantile Trust failure. And as he stood there now, clutching the marble railing, his thought busy with the woman and the two fair children who would be rendered penniless by this blow, the fell presence of the monster Ames seemed to bend over him as the epitome of ruthless, brutal, inhuman cunning.

"How much are you likely to lose by this failure?" the giant asked.

Wales collected his scattered senses. "Not less than fifty thousand dollars," he replied in a husky voice.

"H'm!" commented Ames. "Too bad! too bad! Well, let's go below. Ha!

what's this?" stooping and apparently taking up an object that had been lying on the floor back of the congressman. "Well! well! your bank book, Wales. Must have slipped from your pocket."

Wales took the book in a dazed, mechanical way. "Why--I have no--this is not mine," he murmured, gazing alternately at the pa.s.s book and at Ames.

"Your name's on it, at least," commented Ames laconically. "And the book's been issued by our bank, Ames and Company. Guess you've forgotten opening an account there, let me see, yes, a week ago." He took the book and opened it. "Ah, yes, I recall the incident now.

There's your deposit, made last Friday."

Wales choked. What did it mean? The book, made out in his name on Ames and Company, showed a deposit to his credit of fifty thousand dollars!

Ames slipped his arm through the confused congressman's, and started with him down the balcony. "You see," he said, as they moved away, "the Mercantile failure will not hit you as hard as you thought. Now, about that cotton schedule, when you cast your vote for it, be sure that--" The voice died away as the men disappeared in the distance, leaving Carmen and Haynerd staring blankly at each other.

"Well!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Haynerd at length. "What now?"

"We must save them both," said Carmen quietly.

"I could make my everlasting fortune out of this!" exclaimed Haynerd excitedly.

"And lose your soul," replied the girl. "But I will see Mr. Ames, and tell him that we overheard his conversation. He will save us all."

Haynerd then smiled, but it was a hard smile, coming from one who knew the world. "Listen, my dear girl," he said, "we will keep quiet, you and I. To mention this would be only to court disaster at the hands of one who would strangle us at the slightest intimation of our knowledge. Can you not see the consequences to us?"

"I can see but the right," returned Carmen determinedly. "And the right shall prevail!"

"But, my dear girl," cried Haynerd, now thoroughly alarmed both for himself and her, "he would ruin us! This is no affair of ours. We had no intention of hearing; and so let it be as if we had not heard."

"And let the lie of evil prevail? No, Mr. Haynerd, I could not, if I would. Mr. Ames is being used by evil; and it is making him a channel to ruin Mr. Wales. Shall I stand idly by and permit it? No!"

She rose, with a look of fixed resolution on her face. Haynerd sprang to his feet and laid a detaining hand upon her arm. As he did so, the screen was quickly drawn aside, and Kathleen Ames and two of her young companions bent their curious gaze in upon them. Absorbed in their earnest conversation, Carmen and Haynerd had not heard the approach of the young ladies, who were on a tour of inspection of the house before supper.

"Reporters for the Social Era, Miss Ames," explained Haynerd, hastily answering the unspoken question, while he made a courteous bow.

But Kathleen had not heard him. "What--you!" she cried, instantly recognizing Carmen, and drawing back. "How dared you! Oh!"

"What is it, dear?" asked one of the young ladies, as her eyes roved over Carmen's tense, motionless figure.

"You--creature!" cried Kathleen, spurting her venom at Carmen, while her eyes snapped angrily and her hands twitched. "When the front door is closed against you, you sneak in through the back door! Leave this house, instantly, or I shall have you thrown into the street!"

"Why, Kathleen dear!" exclaimed one of her companions. "She is only a reporter!"

"She is a low, negro wench!" cried Kathleen maliciously. "She comes from a brothel! She foisted herself upon society, and was discovered and kicked out! Her father is a dirty negro priest, and her mother a low--"

Haynerd rushed to the maddened girl and clapped his hand over her mouth. "Hush, for G.o.d's sake, Miss Ames!" Then, to her companions, "Take her away!" he pleaded. "And we will leave at once!"

But a house detective, attracted by the loud conversation, had come up and interposed. At his signal another one approached. "Bring Mr.

Ames," he quietly commanded. "I can not put them out if they have his permission to remain," he explained to the angry Kathleen.

In a few moments, during which the little group stood tense and quiet, Ames himself appeared.

"Well?" he demanded. "Ah!" as his eyes lighted upon Carmen. "My little girl! And--so this is your a.s.sistant?" turning inquiringly to Haynerd.

"By George! Her article in last week's Social Era was a corker. But,"

staring from Kathleen to the others, "what's the row?"

"I want that creature put out of the house!" demanded Kathleen, trembling with rage and pointing to Carmen.

"Tut, tut," returned Ames easily. "She's on business, and has my permission to remain. But, by George! that's a good joke," winking at Haynerd and breaking into a loud laugh. "You put one over on us there, old man!" he said.