"Did you have a good time?" she inquired.

"I enjoyed it immensely. I never had a better one."

"You probably were in good company," she said significantly. Then she added: "I believe Miss Rossmore was in Paris."

"Yes, I think she was there," was his non-committal answer.

To change the conversation, which was becoming decidedly personal, he picked up a book that was lying on his father's desk and glanced at the t.i.tle. It was "The American Octopus."

"Is father still reading this?" he asked. "He was at it when I left."

"Everybody is reading it," said Kate. "The book has made a big sensation. Do you know who the hero is?"

"Who?" he asked with an air of the greatest innocence.

"Why, no less a personage than your father--John Burkett Ryder himself! Everybody says it's he--the press and everybody that's read it. He says so himself."

"Really?" he exclaimed with well-simulated surprise. "I must read it."

"It has made a strong impression on Mr. Ryder," chimed in Mr.

Bagley. "I never knew him to be so interested in a book before.

He's trying his best to find out who the author is. It's a jolly well written book and raps you American millionaires jolly well--what?"

"Whoever wrote the book," interrupted Kate, "is somebody who knows Mr. Ryder exceedingly well. There are things in it that an outsider could not possibly know."

"Phew!" Jefferson whistled softly to himself. He was treading dangerous ground. To conceal his embarra.s.sment, he rose.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll go and pay my filial respects upstairs.

I'll see you again," He gave Kate a friendly nod, and without even glancing at Mr. Bagley left the room.

The couple stood in silence for a few moments after he disappeared. Then Kate went to the door and listened to his retreating footsteps. When she was sure that he was out of earshot she turned on Mr. Bagley indignantly.

"You see what you expose me to. Jefferson thinks this was a rendezvous."

"Well, it was to a certain extent," replied the secretary unabashed. "Didn't you ask me to see you here?"

"Yes," said Kate, taking a letter from her bosom, "I wanted to ask you what this means?"

"My dear Miss Roberts--Kate--I"--stammered the secretary.

"How dare you address me in this manner when you know I and Mr.

Ryder are engaged?"

No one knew better than Kate that this was not true, but she said it partly out of vanity, partly out of a desire to draw out this Englishman who made such bold love to her.

"Miss Roberts," replied Mr. Bagley loftily, "in that note I expressed my admiration--my love for you. Your engagement to Mr.

Jefferson Ryder is, to say the least, a most uncertain fact."

There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice that did not escape Kate.

"You must not judge from appearances," she answered, trying to keep up the outward show of indignation which inwardly she did not feel. "Jeff and I may hide a pa.s.sion that burns like a volcano.

All lovers are not demonstrative, you know."

The absurdity of this description as applied to her relations with Jefferson appealed to her as so comical that she burst into laughter in which the secretary joined.

"Then why did you remain here with me when the Senator went out with Mr. Ryder, senior?" he demanded.

"To tell you that I cannot listen to your nonsense any longer,"

retorted the girl.

"What?" he cried, incredulously. "You remain here to tell me that you cannot listen to me when you could easily have avoided listening to me without telling me so. Kate, your coldness is not convincing."

"You mean you think I want to listen to you?" she demanded.

"I do," he answered, stepping forward as if to take her in his arms.

"Mr. Bagley!" she exclaimed, recoiling.

"A week ago," he persisted, "you called me Fitzroy. Once, in an outburst of confidence, you called me Fitz."

"You hadn't asked me to marry you then," she laughed mockingly.

Then edging away towards the door she waved her hand at him playfully and said teasingly: "Good-bye, Mr. Bagley, I am going upstairs to Mrs. Ryder. I will await my father's return in her room. I think I shall be safer."

He ran forward to intercept her, but she was too quick for him.

The door slammed in his face and she was gone.

Meantime Jefferson had proceeded upstairs, pa.s.sing through long and luxuriously carpeted corridors with panelled frescoed walls, and hung with grand old tapestries and splendid paintings, until he came to his mother's room. He knocked.

"Come in!" called out the familiar voice.

He entered. Mrs. Ryder was busy at her escritoire looking over a ma.s.s of household accounts.

"h.e.l.lo, mother!" he cried, running up and hugging her in his boyish, impulsive way. Jefferson had always been devoted to his mother, and while he deplored her weakness in permitting herself to be so completely under the domination of his father, she had always found him an affectionate and loving son.

"Jefferson!" she exclaimed when he released her. "My dear boy, when did you arrive?"

"Only yesterday. I slept at the studio last night. You're looking bully, mother. How's father?"

Mrs. Ryder sighed while she looked her son over proudly. In her heart she was glad Jefferson had turned out as he had. Her boy certainly would never be a financier to be attacked in magazines and books. Answering his question she said:

"Your father is as well as those busybodies in the newspapers will let him be. He's considerably worried just now over that new book 'The American Octopus.' How dare they make him out such a monster?

He's no worse than other successful business men. He's richer, that's all, and it makes them jealous. He's out driving now with Senator Roberts. Kate is somewhere in the house--in the library, I think."

"Yes, I found her there," replied Jefferson dryly. "She was with that cad, Bagley. When is father going to find that fellow out?"

"Oh, Jefferson," protested his mother, "how can you talk like that of Mr. Bagley. He is such a perfect gentleman. His family connections alone should ent.i.tle him to respect. He is certainly the best secretary your father ever had. I'm sure I don't know what we should do without him. He knows everything that a gentleman should."

"And a good deal more, I wager," growled Jefferson. "He wasn't groom of the backstairs to England's queen for nothing." Then changing the topic, he said suddenly: "Talking about Kate, mother, we have got to reach some definite understanding. This talk about my marrying her must stop. I intend to take the matter up with father to-day."

"Oh, of course, more trouble!" replied his mother in a resigned tone. She was so accustomed to having her wishes thwarted that she was never surprised at anything. "We heard of your goings on in Paris. That Miss Rossmore was there, was she not?"