"I will send a couple of men up with him, your honor. I understand his wife is a very estimable lady. It will be a bitter blow to her."
"All right. You will have to go in the custody of the police. But I will not release you on bail."
Bobbie and the girls had already sped on their way to the happy Barton home. Trubus, under the watchful eyes of two policemen and with his lawyer, lost no time in returning to his mansion.
As he rang the bell the butler hurried to the door in a frightened manner.
"It can't be true, sir, wot the pypers say, can it?" he gasped. But Trubus forced his way past, followed by the attorney and his two guards.
In the beautiful drawing-room he saw two maids leaning over the Oriental couch. They were trying to quiet his daughter.
"Why, Sylvia, my child," he cried.
"Oh, oh!" exclaimed the girl, forcing herself free from the restraining hands of the servants. She laughed shrilly as she staggered toward her father. Her eyes were wide and staring with the light of madness. "Here's father! Dear father!"
Trubus paled, but caught her in his arms.
"My poor dear," he began.