latter surmise he would no doubt have been entirely correct were is not for the fact that a certain dynamic individual named Joe Embry required considerably less sleep than most men. In the former portion of his hazard at prophetic vision Booth Stanton was not far in error.
Beatrice Corliss, left alone, turned to a sheet of paper lying upon her table top, held securely by the sturdy feet of a little bronze tiger. On it was written the message which had come over her telephone wire from her lawyers last night, jotted down by her own hand as she received it:
"Time required for thorough investigation. Attended personally however to all titles and deeds when your father increased his holdings. Confident no flaw anywhere in your title. Giving the matter immediate attention.—Rollins."
"It's just a big game of bluff!" cried Beatrice, the hand holding the paper suddenly clenching. "The man is a fool."
Then it was that Joe Embry, that one of her guests who yesterday afternoon had seized the first moment of his arrival to question her concerning Steele, appeared upon the veranda, smiling in through the open door.
"Miss Corliss, you are absolutely the most constantly surprising young woman in the world. I tell you good night at one o'clock, and here at half past six I find you dispensing justice In the throne room!"
Beatrice, her frown gone, smiled. Embry always addressed her thus and though long ago all novelty had
