"Why didn't you say to him that I am busy? I don't want to see him," said his employer in a sharp undertone. Droom's long finger was on his lips, enjoining silence.

"He said that you wouldn't want to see him, but that it didn't make any difference. He'll wait, he says."

They were in the private office, with the door closed. Bansemer's face was whiter and more firmly set than ever. The ugly fighting light was in his eyes again.

"If he has come here to threaten me, I'll kill him," he said savagely.

"You'll do nothing of the kind," said the clerk with what was meant to be a conciliatory smile. "Meet him squarely and hear what he has to say."

"Do you suppose she has told Cable? He may have sent Harbert here."

"Cable's hands are tied. I know too much. If I were to tell the police what I know he'd have a devil of a time getting the presidency of his road. Besides, they both owe me a vote of thanks. Didn't I have sense enough to make it look like robbery?"

"Yes, but curse your stupidity, they may charge you with the job. Nobody would believe that Cable would attempt to rob his own wife."

"But they would, in any event, decide that he had taken the rings to make it appear like robbery." There was a hard rap on the glass panel. "He's bound to see you, sir."

"Well, then, show him in!" snarled Bansemer.

"Mr. Bansemer will see you, sir," said Droom suavely, opening the door suddenly.

"Thanks," said Harbert shortly. He entered the private office and faced the lawyer, who was standing near his desk. "I've taken advantage of your invitation to drop in and see you."

"This is one of my busy days, Mr. Harbert," said Bansemer, determined to come to the point at once. "However, I hardly expected a social call from you, so it must be of a business nature. What is it?"

"It concerns your son, Mr. Bansemer. I'm here in the capacity of a physician. You must go away for his health." Harbert smiled as though he thought it a good joke. Bansemer turned red and then white.

"I don't quite appreciate your wit, sir."

"My humour, I'd suggest as a substitute. Well, to be perfectly plain, sir, your son does not know the true nature of the malady. He—"

"Do I understand you to say that he really has an ailment?" exclaimed Bansemer seriously.

"It isn't hopeless, my dear sir. My only desire is to keep him from ever finding out that he has a malady. He is sure to learn the truth if you remain here."

"Damn you, Harbert, I understand you now, and I want to say this to you: I'll not drag that boy away from this city. He's successful here and he's one of the most promising young men in town. I'm not going to have him hounded from town to town by—"

"You don't quite understand me, sir. On the contrary, he should remain here. What I do mean to say is this: he won't feel like staying here if the truth about his father is uttered. That's the brutal way to put it, Bansemer, but you've GOT TO GET OUT."

The two glared at each other for a full minute. Bansemer was as white as a sheet—but not with fear.

"Harbert," he said in low tones, "I've half a mind to kill you."

"Don't. You'd hang for it. There are at least a dozen members of the bar who know that I have come here to see you, and they know why, too. See here, Bansemer, you're a scoundrel to begin with. You've always been a knave. How you happen to have a son like Graydon I can't imagine. If I did not know that your wife was a noble, honest woman, it wouldn't be difficult to supply a reason for—"

"Stop! By God, you shall not say a word against my wife! I'll brain you with this weight! You—"

"I have not said a word against her—nor against your son. For her and for him I have the deepest respect. I am trying to protect the memory of one and the future of the other. Bansemer, I believe that I drove you out of New York. You escaped without exposure simply because the witnesses lost their nerve. That won't be the case here. You think you've covered your tracks nicely. You haven't. You've tripped into half a dozen traps. I don't know what your game is with the Cables, but you're base enough to take advantage of your son's position in that home. Don't interrupt! I'll soon be through. I'm a man of few words. If it were not for your son I'd swear out the warrants for you to-day on five different charges. For his sake I'm going to give you a chance. I've worked on you for three years. I swore I'd get you some time. Well, I've got you, and I'm going to cheat myself out of a whole lot of pleasure. I'm not going to smash you as I intended. Your son's friends have prevailed. To show you that I'm not bluffing, I have every bit of evidence in the Burkenday case, the Flossie Bellamy job, the widow Hensmith affair—and it was a damnable one, too—with two or three more. You broke that woman's heart. I don't suppose you know that she died last month. You never noticed it, eh? Her precious coachman is living like a lord on the money you and he took from her. Old Burkenday's housemaid has bought a little home in Edgewater—but not from her wages. The two jobs you now have on hand never will be pulled off. The girl in the Banker Watts case has been cornered and has confessed. She is ready to appear against you. McLennan's wife has had the courage to defy your accomplice—that dastardly butler of theirs—and he has left town, frightened out of his wits. Your time has come. The jig is up. It won't be as it was in New York, because we have the proof. There is a committee of three down in Rigby's office now waiting for me to report. If I take word to them that you expect to sail for Europe next week, never to return to this country, all well and good. It is for your son's good health, bear in mind. If you go, the public may never learn the truth about you; if you stay you will be in jail before you are a week older. And, Mr. Bansemer, you've got to decide DAMNED QUICK."

Bansemer looked his accuser straight in the eye, a faint smile of derision touching his lips, but not his eyes.

"Mr. Harbert, the first thing you have to learn in connection with your patient's father is that he is not a coward. I refuse to run, sir. I am innocent of any intentional wrong, and I'll stand my ground. My son will stand beside me, too; he is that sort. Go back to your committee and tell them that Bansemer will not go to Europe for his son's health. Good-day, sir!"

"Nonsense, Bansemer," exploded Harbert. "You know we've got you fast enough. Why be a fool as well as a knave? You haven't a ghost of a chance. I'm trying to do you a good turn."

"A good turn? Mr. Harbert, I am neither a fool nor a knave. If I were a fool I'd kill you where you stand. I would be justified in killing the man who represents a crowd of blackmailers. That's what you are, sir. I refuse to pay your price. If I were a knave I'd pay it. I want you to understand one thing. I shall stand my ground here. If you persecute me, I'll not stop flaying you until death ends my endeavours. We'll see what justice can give me in exchange for your bulldozing. I will have restitution, remember that. Now, you've nothing more to say to me. Get out!"

"Sir!"

"Get out!"

"By George, you're a wonderful bluffer."

"Do you expect me to throw you out, sir?"

"It isn't necessary. I've had a change of heart in the last minute, Mr. Bansemer. I withdraw my proposition. By all that's holy, I intend to go after you now without pity. Hang your son's feelings! You won't take my advice. I didn't give it as a friend, because I detest you. It was done in a weak spirit of fairness toward your son and toward the girl he is to marry. Now, I put them out of my consideration. They—-"

"Get out!"

Harbert, very red in the face, slammed the door after him and strode angrily through the outer office into the corridor. Droom immediately entered the consultation room.

"Well? What is it?" demanded Bansemer.

"What did he want?"

"He invited me to go to Europe for an indefinite stay. I refused. We'll fight it out, Droom. We have covered our trail better than he thinks. They can't convict me. I'm sure of that. They have nothing but conjectures, and they won't go in court."

"I'm afraid of him, just the same. You're bull-headed about it. Every criminal thinks his tracks are covered until it is too late to cover them properly."

"Curse you, Droom, I'm no criminal."

"A slip of the tongue on my part. Do you know who is down there in Rigby's office with those fellows?"

"An officer, I daresay."

"No. David Cable."

"Cable? Then, his wife has told him everything. Well, I've something to tell, too. By the Lord Harry, Elias, there will be several sensations in high life."

"You don't mean that you'll tell all there is to tell about the girl?"

"No! That's just it! That is one thing I won't tell. If you tell whose blood she has in her veins, I'll kill you like a dog. But, I'll see that Miss Cable is dropped by Chicago society inside of a week. I'm mad, Droom—do you understand?"

"But Graydon loves her."

"He won't love her long. I was a fool to let him go this far—a blind, loving fool. But I'll end it now. He shan't marry her. He has no—-"

"I haven't much of a heart to boast of, Bansemer, but I beg of you not to do this thing. I love Graydon. He doesn't deserve any pain or disgrace. Take my advice and leave the city. Let me call Harbert back."

"No! They can't drive me out! Telephone over and ask Graydon to stop here on his way up this afternoon."

The opening and closing of the outer door attracted their attention. Droom peeped forth. In spite of himself, Bansemer started and his eyes widened with sudden alarm. A glance of apprehension passed between the two men.

"It's that Deever boy from Judge Smith's," reported Droom.

"Tell him to get out," said Bansemer, with a breath of relief.

"I thought it might have been—-" began Droom with a wry grin.

"Nonsense!"

"It is a bit too soon. They haven't had time."

As Droom left the room, Bansemer crossed to the window and looked down into the seething street far below. He saw that his hand trembled and he tried to laugh at his weakness. For a long time he stood there, his unseeing eyes focused on the hurrying masses, his ears alert for unusual sounds from the outer office.

"If it were not for Graydon," he was muttering between set teeth. "God, how I hate to have him know!"

Droom had told Eddie Deever to "get out," but Eddie was there to talk and be talked to, so he failed to take the hint.

"Say, I haven't seen you since you played the hero up in the fashionable part of town. Gee, that was a startler! I'll bet old man Cable rewards you in some way. What's your theory about the hold-up?"

Droom looked up sharply. For the first time there shot into his mind the thought that the breezy boy might be a spy.

"I haven't any," he replied shortly. He was trying to remember if he had ever said anything incriminating to the boy.

"How d' you happen to be over there just at that time?"

"I haven't time to talk about it. Please don't bother me. It happened three days ago and I've really forgotten about it. Don't throw that cigarette into the wastebasket. Haven't you any sense?"

"Gee, you don't suppose I'm going to throw it away, do you? There's half an inch of it left. Not me. Say, I've heard your boss has quite a case on Mrs. Cable. How about it?" he almost whispered this.

"You shouldn't talk like that."

"Oh, you mean that gag about people living in glass houses? Gee, don't worry about that. Chicago is a city of glass houses. A blind man could throw rocks all day and smash a hole in somebody's house every crack. I believe the hold-up man was one of those strikers who have been out of jobs all winter. Smith thinks so."

"Who?"

"Judge Smith."

"That's better."

"Did you see his face?"

"What are you, bub—a detective?"

"Rosie Keating says I'd make a better policeman than lawyer. She's sore at me for taking Miss Throckmorton to Mam' Galli's the other night. Fellow stood on the piano and sang the derndest song I've ever heard. But, gee, I don't think Miss Throck was on. She didn't seem to notice, I mean. Say, on the dead, do you think you could identify that fellow?"

"Look here, boy, if anyone ever asks you whether I'd know that man's face if I saw it again, you just say that I'd know it in a thousand. I saw it plainly."

Eddie gulped suddenly and looked more interested than ever.

"Do you think they'll get him?"

"They will if he talks too much."

"I hope so. Say, how's that new patent coming on?"

"I'm not making a patent. I'm making a model. It's nearly completed. The strike in the shops is holding me back with it. Curse these strikes."

"Oh, they bust 'em up mighty quick. There hasn't been a big one on since Debs engineered his and Cleveland called out the troops."

"Boy, you wait a few years and you'll see a strike that will paralyse you. Look at these teamsters. They're powerful now. They'll get licked, but they'll come back. When the next big money panic comes—it'll be in my day, too—you'll see the streets of Chicago running with blood. These fellows will go after the rich, and they'll get 'em. You will live to see the day when women who wear diamonds around their throats will have harsh, horny ringers there instead. There will be rich men's blood on every paving stone and beautiful necks will be slit with less mercy than marked the French butchery years ago. That's my prophecy. Some day you'll recall it to mind, especially if you happen to become very prosperous. It's bound to come. Now get out. I have a lot of writing to do." Eddie snickered.

"What will the law be doing all this time?"

"Bosh! The law can't even capture Mrs. Cable's assailant. Do you know what the human lust for blood is? Take an enraged man, doesn't he hunger for blood? He wants to kill and he does kill. Well, he is but an atom—an individual. Now, can you imagine what it will mean when a whole class of people, men and women, are forced to one common condition—the lust for blood? The individual lusts, and so will the mass. The rage of the mass will be the same as the fury of the individual. It will be just like one tremendous man of many parts rioting for—-"

The outer door opened suddenly and an old gentleman entered.

"Is Mr. Bansemer here?" he asked, removing his silk hat nervously.

"Yes, Mr. Watts. I'll tell him you are here."

Watts, the banker, confronted Bansemer a moment later, an anxious, hunted look in his eyes. John Watts was known as one of the meanest men in the city. No one had bested him in a transaction of any kind. As hard as nails and as treacherous as a dog, he was feared alike by man and woman.

Watts, perhaps for the first time in his self-satisfied life, was ready to bow knee to a fellow-man. A certain young woman had fallen into the skilful hands of Counsellor James Bansemer, and Mr. Watts was jerked up with a firmness that staggered him.

"Mr. Bansemer, I have come in to see if this thing can't be settled between us. I don't want to go into court. My wife and daughters won't understand that it's a case of blackmail on the part of this woman. Let's come to terms."

Bansemer smiled coolly. It was impossible to resist the temptation to toy with him for a while, to humble and humiliate this man who had destroyed hundreds in his juggernaut ride to riches. Skilfully he drew the old man out. He saw the beads of perspiration on hit, brow and heard the whine come from his voice. Then, in the end, he sharply changed his tactics.

"See here, Watts, you've got a wrong impression of this affair. I don't like your inferences. I am not asking you for a cent. I wouldn't take it. You have just offered me $25,000 to drop the affair. That's an insult to my integrity. I've investigated this girl's claim pretty thoroughly and I believe she is trying to fleece you. I have given up the case. None of that sort of thing for me. She'll go to some unscrupulous lawyer, no doubt, but I am out of it. I don't handle that kind of business. You have insulted me. Get out of my office, sir, and never enter it again."

"Give me that in writing," began the wily banker, but Bansemer had called to Droom. Eddie Deever was standing near the door, almost doggedly curious.

"Show Mr. Watts the door, and if he ever comes here again call the police. He has tried to bribe me."

Watts departed in a dazed sort of way and Droom closed the door.

"Are you still here?" he demanded of Eddie Deever in such a manner that the young man lost no time in leaving.

"There goes twenty-five thousand," said Bansemer, with a cold grin.

"I guess you can afford to lose it," muttered Droom. "It was slick, I suppose, but it's probably too late to help."

"Have you telephoned to Graydon?"

"Not yet."

"Don't."

"Change of heart?"

"Change of mind."

"That's so. You haven't any heart."