"Mr. Wilmerding," he asked finally, "in case Miss Marvin does not marry who would have charge of the estate?"

"I should say," replied the lawyer, "in reply to your question that the estate would be held in trust by you."

Returning to the house and entering the library Owen was confronted by the unwelcome spectacle of Montgomery Hicks, generally known as Mug.

Hicks, with his gaudy attire, and ugly face, was always an affront to the eye, but to Owen he was a terror, for he held the power of blackmail over the secretary. Owen shrank at the sight of his enemy, but immediately took courage. Though Marvin's death had left the secretary no legacy it had also robbed the blackmailer of his power.

Hicks advanced with what he intended to be a winning smile and extended a hot, fat hand.

"I see the old man has croaked and I was just dropping in to talk business," Hicks's newsboy voice growled out.

"Hicks," said Owen, keeping his hand in his pocket, "if you came here to get your money out of the legacy old man Marvin was to leave me.

Well, you won't get it and you never will get it. Marvin didn't leave me a cent, so there is nothing for you to get. He did leave me a job in his will, a job that will last for a year, and neither you nor any one else can force me out of that job. You can't blackmail me any more."

"At the end of the year what becomes of you?" asked Hicks.

"Then I get a position somewhere else; but that is none of your business."

"You don't want a position, Owen. A position calls for work. You don't like hard work any more then I do. You can't stand work much longer, either. Look at your eyes and your skin, how many grains do you take a day, anyway?"

"I haven't touched a grain of morphine in six months," lied Owen. "But get out of my way--you can't get anything out of me and you can't blackmail me. If you come to this house again I'll have you thrown out."

"Just a minute," said Hicks, as pleasantly as he could, straining his coa.r.s.e features into the unaccustomed position of a smile. "I didn't come to get money out of you. I know all about the will. What I came for was to help you and give you a tip. You and I can make a lot of easy money together. You've got the opportunity and I've got the brains. Now, to show you I'm your friend, look at this!"

Hicks handed him a paper which Owen read with surprise. It was a receipt in full for all Owen owed. Owen put it in his pocket.

"That's right, keep it. You and I are going to be so rich before long that a matter of a thousand or two wouldn't be worth talking about between friends."

Owen had been under the thumb of this man, had feared and hated him and hoped for the day when he might sneer in his face and defy him. This was the time, and yet he felt Hicks had something to offer. He was in temporary charge of millions. There should be, there must be, some way to make this control permanent or else to delve into these millions while they were in his care. As Hicks hinted, this was an opportunity and he needed not brains, but rather experience and advice. Owen had been a rascal on a short time, why not take a partner like this man Hicks? He would prevent mistakes, and mistakes are all a criminal need fear.

Owen fingered uneasily the paper Hicks had put in his hand. He drew it out of his pocket--yes, it was a receipt in full for all that Owen owed the scoundrel. What could be Hicks's scheme? Owen turned a puzzled and worried gaze upon his companion.

Hicks observed him closely, read the misgivings in Owen's mind and, drawing close, whispered something in the latter's ear.

But Owen's drug-saturated nerves trembled at the thought. He pushed Hicks aside and walked rapidly out of the room, calling over his shoulder:

"I won't have anything to do with you. I don't want you to come near me or speak to me again. I'm done with you."

"When you want me you know where to find me," was Hicks's parting answer.

CHAPTER III

PAULINE TAXES THE FIRST TRICK

"All right, I'll do it," growled Harry Marvin, with the air of a martyr going to the stake. "I'll do it for your sake, Polly."

"Well, you'd better begin to get ready," said Pauline blithely.

"I'll climb into a frock coat and endure an hour or two of this afternoon tea chatter," promised Harry, "but first you must talk sense with me for a few minutes."

"Oh, Harry," spoke Pauline, softly, "I know what 'talking sense'

means. You want to argue about my year of adventure. Now, lets not argue. Let's just be happy. You know I love you and I know you love me, and that ought to be enough. This year will be gone before you know it. I'm going to begin it right away just to please you. The sooner it starts the sooner it will be over."

"Begin it?" said Harry. "Why, a month of it is gone now. But it's all nonsense. Polly, if you love me you are going to give up this crazy idea."

A maid, bringing the card of Miss Lucille Hamlin, interrupted Harry.

She was the first of the afternoon tea party. Polly hurried Harry off to dress, and, of course, he had no further chance to "talk sense"

until the door had closed on the last guest. Then he pounced upon her. But Pauline, sweetly stubborn, cheerfully unyielding, insisted on carrying out her father's promise to the letter.

Raymond Owen, the secretary of the late Mr. Marvin, had thought it important to overhear this argument, and finally to walk into the library where the debate was going on. If the adventures were to start he had an idea for a beginning. The words of Hicks, the blackmailer, had been in his mind for some thirty days and were beginning to bear fruit. He had soon reached the point of hoping, almost praying, something would happen to Pauline that he might be left in control of her, estate. During the last few days Owen had progressed, from merely hoping to readiness to help his wish to come true.

Harry instantly appealed to the secretary to dissuade Pauline. There was no doubt that Owen had some influence over the girl. In years gone by, before Owen had taken to the drug, Pauline had sought him out in many a time of perplexity and learned to rely on his tactful, well-considered advice.

To the surprise of the young master of the house, Owen made no attempt to dissuade. Very un.o.btrusively he pointed out that for many years he had been accustomed to carry out the wishes of Harry's father, and that he was bound to fulfill his last wish in the same way.

"Raymond, you're a dear," laughed Pauline; "let's think of something thrilling to do right off. Have you any idea?"

"No," lied Owen, "I hadn't given the matter any thought. We might look at a newspaper and see what's happening."

Owen had a paper with him and the three examined it together.

Owen pretended to discover that an aviation meet was about to be held.

His idea, for which Harry promptly hated him, was to induce some aviator to take Pauline as a pa.s.senger. Many of the races called for carrying a pa.s.senger. Harry made a few objections, but the speed with which they were overruled showed that he had no standing in this court. So Harry subsided, but he thought very hard.

Several things were becoming evident to Harry.

One was that this year to see life and have adventures was actually going to take place and no opposition on his part would stop it. It was also clear that if he hoped to control Pauline's adventures in any way it would be by the use of his wits, matching them against Pauline and the secretary.

When Pauline and Owen decided upon the aeroplane ride, Harry contented himself with remarking that he would have to see about it. Both chuckled when he said it, Pauline outwardly and Owen inwardly.

Then they had dinner under the round gla.s.sy eye of Aunt Cornelia. Aunt Cornelia was an elderly maiden relative of Harry, who had arrived with others for the funeral and made the brilliant discovery that since Mr.

Marvin's death the "social situation," as she termed it, at the Marvin house had become impossible.

It seemed, according to Aunt Cornelia, that a young man and a young woman of impressionable age living in the same house unchaperoned const.i.tuted an "impossible social situation," Either Pauline or Harry must move out or someone must be installed as chaperon. Of course, the chaperon was the least of the three evils and Aunt Cornelia, being the discoverer of the job, was elected to fill it.

Harry ordered a bottle of wine with his dinner. Though he actually drank very little, this unusual event created no little consternation.

"Harry, I didn't know you drank?" said Pauline.

"I am just beginning. You see, now that I must take over father's affairs and mix with men of the world I ought to get a little experience in things. See life and know what's what."

After dinner Harry casually asked if Pauline thought her adventures would lead her to Paris. Pauline thought it likely, whereat Harry remarked that he might see her over there.

"I haven't been to Paris since I was a kid, and I really ought to see it, don't you think?"

"Yes," agreed Pauline, without enthusiasm, "but wait until we are married and we'll do Paris together."