“What does all this mean, William Hamlin?” Mr. Stuart inquired without ceremony.

With bowed head Mr. Hamlin told the whole story, not attempting to excuse himself, for Mr. Hamlin was a just man, though a severe one. He declared that he had been influenced to suspect Barbara ever since her arrival in his home. His enemies had also made a dupe of him, but his punishment had come upon him swiftly. He had just discovered that his own daughter had tried to deliver into the hands of paid spies, state papers of the United States Government.

Mr. Stuart and Aunt Sallie looked extremely serious while Mr. Hamlin was telling his story. But when Mr. Hamlin explained how Ruth and Bab had exchanged the valuable political documents for folded sheets of blank paper, Mr. Stuart burst into a loud laugh, and his expression changed as though by a miracle. He patted his daughter’s shoulder to express his approval, while Miss Sallie kissed Bab with a sigh of relief.

Mr. Stuart and his sister had both been extremely uneasy since the arrival of Ruth’s singular telegram, not knowing what troubled waters might be surrounding their “Automobile Girls.” Indeed Miss Sallie had insisted on accompanying her brother to Washington, as she felt sure her presence would help to set things right.

Mr. Stuart’s laugh cleared the sorrowful atmosphere of the study as though by magic. Ruth and Barbara smiled through their tears. They were now so sure that all would soon be well!

“It seems to me, William, that all this is ‘much ado about nothing,’” Mr. Stuart declared. “Of course, I can see that the situation would have been pretty serious if poor Harriet had been deceived into giving up the real documents. But Bab and Ruth have saved the day! There is no harm done now. You even know the names of the spies. There is only one thing for us to consider at present, and that is ­where is Harriet?”

“Yes, Father,” Ruth pleaded. “Do find Harriet.”

“The child was foolish, and she did wrong, of course,” Mr. Stuart went on. “But, as Ruth tells me Harriet did not know the real papers were exchanged for false ones, she probably thinks she has disgraced you and she is too frightened to come home. You must take steps to find her at once, and to let her know you forgive her. It is a pity to lose any time.”

Mr. Hamlin was silent. “I cannot forgive Harriet,” he replied. “But, of course, she must be brought home at once.”

“Nonsense!” Mr. Stuart continued. “Summon your servants and have some one telephone to Harriet’s friends. She has probably gone to one of them. Tell the child that Sallie and I are here and wish to see her. But where are my other ‘Automobile Girls,’ Mollie and Grace?”

“Upstairs, Father,” Ruth answered happily. “Come and see them. I want to telephone for Harriet. I think she will come home for me.”

“Show your aunt and father to their rooms, Ruth,” Mr. Hamlin begged. “I must wait here until a messenger arrives from the newspaper, which in some way has learned the story of our misfortune. And even they do not know that the stolen papers were valueless. I must explain matters to them.”

“A man of your influence can keep any mention of this affair out of the newspapers,” Mr. Stuart argued heartily. “So the storm will have blown over by to-morrow. And I believe you will be able to punish the two schemers who have tried to betray your daughter and disgrace my Barbara, without having Harriet’s name brought into this affair.”

For the first time, Mr. Hamlin lifted his head and nodded briefly. “Yes, I can attend to them,” he declared in the quiet fashion that showed him to be a man of power. “It is best, for the sake of the country, that the scandal be nipped in the bud. I alone know what was in these state papers that Mrs. Wilson and Peter Dillon were hired to steal. So I alone know to whom they would be valuable. There would be an international difficulty if I should expose the real promoter of the theft. Peter Dillon shall be dismissed from his Embassy. Mrs. Wilson will find it wiser to leave Washington, and never to return here again. I will spare the woman as much as I can for the sake of her son, Elmer, who is a fine fellow. Ruth, dear, do telephone to Harriet’s friends. Your father is right. We must find my daughter at once.”

Miss Sallie, Mr. Stuart and Ruth started to leave the room. Bab rose to follow them.

“Miss Thurston, don’t go for a minute,” Mr. Hamlin said. “I wish to beg your pardon. Will you forgive a most unhappy man? Of course I see, now, that I had no right to suspect you without giving you a chance to defend yourself. I can only say that I was deceived, as well as Harriet. The whole plot is plain to me now. Harriet was to be terrified into not betraying her own part in the theft, so she would never dare reveal the names of Mrs. Wilson or Peter Dillon. I, with my mind poisoned against you, would have sought blindly to fasten the crime on you. I regard my office as Assistant Secretary of State as a sacred trust. If the papers entrusted to my keeping had been delivered into the hands of the enemies of my country, through my own daughter’s folly, I should never have lifted my head again, I cannot say ­I have no words to express ­what I owe to you and Ruth. But how do you think a newspaper man could have unearthed this plot? It seems incredible, when you consider how stealthily Peter Dillon and Mrs. Wilson have worked. A man ­”

“I don’t think a man did unearth it,” Bab replied. Just then the bell rang again.

The next moment the door opened, and the butler announced: “Miss Marjorie Moore!” The newspaper girl gave Bab a friendly smile; then she turned coldly to Mr. William Hamlin.

“Miss Moore!” Mr. Hamlin exclaimed in surprise and in anger. “I wish to see a man from your newspaper. What I have to say cannot possibly concern you.”

“I think it does, Mr. Hamlin,” Miss Moore repeated calmly. “One of the editors from my paper has come here with me. He is waiting in the hall. But it was I who discovered the theft of your state documents. I have been expecting mischief for some time. I am sorry for you, of course ­very sorry, but I have all the facts of the case, and as no one else knows of it, it will be a great scoop for me in the morning.”

“Your newspaper will not publish the story at all, Miss Moore,” Mr. Hamlin rejoined, when he had recovered from his astonishment at Miss Moore’s appearance. “The stolen papers were not of the least value. Will you explain to Miss Moore exactly what occurred, Miss Thurston?” Mr. Hamlin concluded.

When Bab told the story of how she and Ruth had made their lightning substitution of the papers, Marjorie Moore gave a gasp of surprise.

“Good for you, Miss Thurston!” she returned. “I knew you were clever, as well as the right sort, the first time I saw you. So I had gotten hold of the whole story of the theft except, the most important point ­the exchange of the papers. It spoils my story as sensational political news. But,” Miss Moore laughed, “it makes a perfectly great personal story, because it has such a funny side to it: ’Foiled by the “Automobile Girls"!’ ‘The Assistant Secretary of State’s Daughter!’” Miss Moore stopped, ashamed of her cruelty when she saw Mr. Hamlin’s face. But he did not speak.

It was Bab who exclaimed: “Oh, Miss Moore, you are not going to betray Harriet, are you? Poor Harriet thought it was all a joke. She did not know the papers were valuable. It would be too cruel to spread this story abroad. It might ruin Harriet’s reputation.”

Marjorie Moore made no answer.

“You heard Miss Thurston,” Mr. Hamlin interposed. “Surely you will grant our request.”

“Mr. Hamlin,” Marjorie Moore protested, “I am dreadfully sorry for you. I told you so, but I am going to have this story published in the morning. It is too good to keep and I have worked dreadfully hard on it. Indeed, I almost lost my life because of it. I knew it was Peter Dillon who struck me down on the White House lawn the night of the reception. But I said nothing because I knew that, if I made trouble, I would have been put off the scent of the story somehow. I tried to see Miss Thurston alone, that evening, to warn her that Mrs. Wilson and Peter Dillon were going to try to fasten their crime on her. I am obliged to be frank with you, Mr. Hamlin. I will stick to the facts as you have told them to me, but a full account of the attempted theft will be published in the morning’s ‘News.’”

“Call the man who is with you, Miss Moore; I prefer to talk with him,” Mr. Hamlin commanded. “You do not seem to realize the gravity of what you intend to do. It will be a mistake for your newspaper to make an enemy of a man in my official position.”

Mr. Hamlin talked for some time to one of the editors of the Washington “News.” He entreated, threatened and finally made an appeal to him to save his daughter and himself by not making the story public.

“I am afraid we shall have to let the story go, Miss Moore,” the editor remarked regretfully. “It was a fine piece of news, but we don’t wish to make things too hard for Mr. Hamlin.” The man turned to go.

“Mr. Hughes,” Marjorie Moore announced, speaking to her editor, “if you do not intend to use this story, which I have worked on so long, in your paper, I warn you, right now, that I shall simply sell it to some other newspaper and take the consequences. All the papers will not be so careful of Mr. Hamlin’s feelings.”

“Oh, Miss Moore, you would not be so cruel!” Bab cried.

Marjorie Moore turned suddenly on Barbara; “Why shouldn’t I?” she returned. “Both Harriet Hamlin and Peter Dillon have been hateful and insolent to me ever since I have been making my living in Washington. I told you I meant to get even with them some day. Well, this is my chance, and I intend to take it. Good-bye; there is no reason for me to stay here any longer.”

“Mr. Hamlin, if Miss Moore insists on selling her story on the outside, I cannot see how we would benefit you by failing to print the story,” the editor added.

“Very well,” Mr. Hamlin returned coldly. But he sank back into his chair and covered his face with his hands. Harriet’s reputation was ruined, for no one would believe she had not tried deliberately to sell her father’s honor.

But Bab resolved to appeal once more to the newspaper girl. She ran to Marjorie Moore and put her arm about the newspaper girl’s waist to detain her. She talked to her in her most winning fashion, with her brown eyes glowing with feeling and her lips trembling with eagerness.

The tears came to Marjorie Moore’s eyes as she listened to Bab’s pleading for Harriet. But she still obstinately shook her head.

Some one came running down the stairs and Ruth entered the study without heeding the strangers in it.

“Uncle!” she exclaimed in a terrified voice, “Harriet cannot be found! We have telephoned everywhere for her. No one has seen her or knows anything about her. What shall we do? It is midnight!”

Mr. Hamlin followed Ruth quickly out of the room, forgetting every other consideration in his fear for his daughter. He looked broken and old. Was Harriet in some worse peril?

As Marjorie Moore saw Mr. Hamlin go, she turned swiftly to Barbara and kissed her. “It’s all right, dear,” she said. “You were right. Revenge is too little and too mean. Mr. Hughes has said he will not publish the story, and I shall not sell it anywhere else. Indeed, I promise that what I know shall never be spoken of outside this room. Good night.” Before Barbara could thank her she was gone.