As long as he was under the observation of his enemies it was possible for Evan to maintain his scornful and indifferent air, but at home and alone, his defenses collapsed. Useless for him to tell himself that the girl was not worth troubling about, that it was impossible he should love her after having received such an injury at her hands. Perhaps it was true he no longer loved her, but the wrenching out of his love had left a ghastly gaping wound in his breast. The only thing that kept him going at all was a passionate desire for revenge. Oh, to get square!

At home he had an additional cause for pain in the empty room adjoining his, though Charley’s defection was somewhat overshadowed by the greater misfortune. But to be betrayed on succeeding days by his best friend and by his girl was enough to shatter any man’s faith in humanity.

Next morning after breakfast he sat at his table with his head between his hands, when he was aroused by the sound of an apologetic cough in the hall outside his door. The door was open. A voice spoke his name deprecatingly.

“Here!” said Evan. “Come in.”

George Deaves appeared in the doorway, and Evan was sufficiently astonished. Deaves was neatly dressed in black as for a funeral, carrying a highly-polished silk hat over his thumb. He was pale and moist with agitation, and looked not at all sure of his reception.

“I I didn’t know which door was yours,” he stammered. “The woman told me to come right up.”

Evan could hardly be said to be overjoyed to see his visitor, though his curiosity was somewhat aroused. “Come in,” he said. “Sit down. This is an unexpected visit.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Deaves looked around him vaguely. “So this is where you live?”

“Not a very palatial abode, eh?” said Evan, following the other’s thought.

“Not at all! Not at all!” said Deaves hastily. “I mean, very nice. Very suitable. One understands of course that a young artist has his way to make.”

It was clear from his agonised and distraught eye that he had not come merely to exchange civilities. “What can I do for you?” asked Evan bluntly.

Deaves trailed off into explanations that explained nothing. “I intended to come anyway to tell you to express how it was my position is very difficult you can understand I am sure to tell you to tell you how sorry I was to be obliged to let you go.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Evan indifferently.

“And then something happened which obliged me to come at once. I was here yesterday, but you were out.”

“Yes, I was out all day,” said Evan bitterly. “What has happened?”

Deaves wiped his face. “I have had another letter from those blackguards, a a most dreadful letter!”

“Already?” said Evan.

“And so I came to you at once.”

“You will pardon me,” said Evan coolly, “but I do not yet see why you should come to me about it after the manner of our parting.”

“I had no one else to go to,” said Deaves helplessly.

In spite of himself Evan was a little touched. “Let me see the letter,” he said, holding out his hand.

Deaves passed it over and Evan read:

“Mr. George Deaves:

Dear Mr. Deaves:

Our enterprise has had its exciting side. We’d be willing to keep it up indefinitely for the pure fun of the thing were it not that it is so expensive. I mean, a large part of our takings is swallowed up in the inevitable charges. This leads us to offer you an alternative plan.

Under the present scheme we will assess you this season about forty thousand dollars, and an equal amount, or more, next year. Now we propose to save you money and ourselves trouble by asking you to endow the Ikunahkatsi once and for all. Four hundred thousand dollars is the sum required. At five per cent this is only twenty thousand a year, so you see you would save a clear half. On our part we would bind ourselves not to ask you to advance us any further sums of money on any pretext whatsoever. You will concede that heretofore we have scrupulously kept all our engagements with you. To put it humorously, it will cost you four hundred thousand dollars to get rid of us for good. Isn’t it worth it? Especially now that the old gentleman has lost his efficient guardian.

We will give you until Sunday morning to think it over. If you agree to our proposal hang a flag from the pole that juts from the second story of your house, and we will send you instructions how to proceed. We are sure you will agree, but if you do not, we have further arguments to offer you.

Yours very sincerely,
THE IKUNAHKATSI.”

“Same old humourist!” said Evan grimly.

“And only the day before I sent them five thousand!” groaned Deaves.

“Just the same this is a confession of weakness,” said Evan. “I see that clearly. The game is getting too difficult for them.”

“What would you advise me to do?”

“Ignore that letter.”

“But but what do you suppose they mean by ’further arguments’?”

“I don’t know. Make them show their hand.”

“Do you suppose they contemplate er personal violence?”

“They may intend to threaten it.”

Deaves shuddered. “Suppose they took me into custody as they did you?”

“Well, they didn’t do me any harm, really.”

“I am not so sure the second time ”

“They wouldn’t kill the goose that lays the golden eggs,” said Evan grimly.

Deaves saw nothing humorous in the illustration.

“Have you shown the letter to Mrs. Deaves?” asked Evan.

Deaves shook his head. “I suppose they will be writing to her next,” he moaned.

“Your father?”

“What’s the use?” Deaves struck his forehead. “My position is becoming unbearable!” he cried.

“I’m sorry for you,” Evan said, thinking: “If you only had a little more backbone!”

Deaves arose lugubriously. “After all there is nothing for me to do but to ignore this letter,” he said. “I suppose you do not feel inclined to help me any further in the matter.”

“On the contrary, I’ll be glad to,” said Evan quickly. “But on my own terms. I have my own score to settle with this gang.”

Deaves looked heartened. “Then if I hear from them again what is your telephone number?”

“There is no telephone in this house.”

“But I may send to you?”

“By all means.”

“ Er would you mind coming down-stairs with me?” said Deaves. “The halls are so dark. And this letter has made me wretchedly nervous.”

Evan went with him, concealing his smile.

In the lower hall Deaves said: “Of course I shall not venture out on foot after this. I shall always use the car.” A new and dreadful thought struck him. “But then in a car one offers such a conspicuous mark to a bullet!”

“You needn’t fear bullets,” said Evan. “A dead man can’t pay blackmail.”

Deaves seemed to take little comfort from this. “What do you think about my chauffeur?” he asked anxiously. “Take a look at him. Does he look honest?”

Evan glanced through the narrow pane beside the door. “There’s nothing remarkable about him,” he said. “He looks like like a chauffeur. How can one tell from a man’s looks what he’s thinking about?”

“Suppose they were to bribe him, and he drove me off to their lair?” stuttered Deaves. “I I think I’d better stay home altogether hereafter.”

But he was back again at nine o’clock that night in a still greater state of agitation. “Father has not come home!” he cried. “Where is he?”

“How should I know?” said Evan.

“But you accompanied him on all his walks! You know his haunts!”

“His haunts!” exclaimed Evan. “His haunts comprised the whole five boroughs of Greater New York with occasional excursions into Jersey!”

“But you must go in search of him! I cannot let the night pass and do nothing!”

“My dear sir, I wouldn’t have the faintest notion where to begin. The only thing to do is to send out a general alarm through the police.”

Deaves wrung his hands. “I can’t do that! I can’t risk another horrible newspaper sensation on top of everything else!”

“Then there’s nothing to do but wait to see what happens,” said Evan patiently. “If he’s had an accident in the street, you will be notified.”

“You think I’d be glad if something happened to him,” said Deaves. “Everybody thinks so. But after all he’s my father. It’s the suspense that drives me out of my mind!”

“It cannot be for long. If the blackmailers have kidnapped him ”

“That is what I fear!”

“They will open negotiations in the morning. And you need not fear that anything will happen to him during the course of negotiations.”

“But what good will it do to negotiate?” cried poor Deaves. “I cannot possibly meet their demands.”

“Tell them so,” said Evan. “Put it up to them.”

“Then they’ll make him suffer.”

“In that case he can pay them.”

“Ah, you don’t know my father! Four hundred thousand dollars! He’d die rather!”

“Well, that’s up to him, isn’t it?” said Evan coolly.

“Ah, you have no heart!” cried George Deaves.

“My dear sir,” said Evan patiently, “it is your ‘heart’ as you call it that these fellows are working on. They would not dare to harm Mr. Deaves, really. If they did, it would arouse public opinion to that extent we could catch and hang every man jack of them!”

“Your cold words cannot ease the heart of a son!” cried Deaves.

Evan ushered him gently towards the staircase. “Take it easy!” he said soothingly. “Wait until to-morrow. Perhaps in opening negotiations they will give us a good chance to trip them up.”

Deaves returned next morning before Evan had finished his breakfast. He extended a letter in a trembling hand.

“In the first mail,” he said.

Evan read:

“One of our members happened to meet Mr. Simeon Deaves on the street yesterday, and invited him to spend a few days as our guest at the clubhouse. He is with us now, and appears to be enjoying himself pretty well, but unfortunately the climate of the vicinity is very bad for him. At his age one cannot be too careful. We think he should be returned home at once. A single day’s delay might be fatal. If you agree, hang out the flag at eleven, Monday. We realize that you feel you must be extra careful in regard to the old gentleman’s health, because you would profit so greatly by his death. You are so conscientious! Personally we would be very glad to see you come in for a great fortune; it would enable you to put so much more into the enterprise in which we are jointly associated.”

Said Evan: “Stripped of its humorous verbiage this means: ’Come across or we’ll croak the old man. And you needn’t think you would profit by his death because we’d come down on you harder than ever then!’”

“Isn’t it awful! Isn’t it awful!” gasped Deaves. “Was ever a man put in so frightful a position? What am I to do?”

“Three courses are open to you,” said Evan patiently; “the first, and in my opinion the wisest, course is to do nothing. Put it up to them.”

“But my father! He will suffer for it! A rotting old house overrun with rats, you said. And such an ordeal as you went through! It might very well kill him. How can I risk it?”

“He will always have the option of freeing himself,” said Evan.

“He would die rather than submit!”

Evan shrugged. “Well, we went over all that last night. Your second course would be to take that letter to the police and put the whole matter in their hands. A force of ten thousand men with the information I can give them ought to be able to locate the clubhouse before night.”

“And find papa’s body!”

“Well, your third course is to hang out the flag and open negotiations.”

“I have nothing to negotiate with! I cannot raise a cent more!”

“Never mind; bluff them. Spin them along as far as you can, on the chance of outwitting them in the end.”

“What chance would I have of outwitting them?” cried Deaves mournfully.

Evan looked at the poor distraught figure and thought: “Not much, I guess.” Aloud he said: “Well, that’s the best I can do for you.”

“All three courses are equally impossible!” cried Deaves desperately.

“Yet you must follow one of them.”

“You are no help at all!” cried Deaves. He turned like a demented person, and ran down-stairs.

Evan thought he had seen the last of him.

But on the afternoon of the following day he returned once more. He was still perturbed, but his desperate agitation had passed; there was even a certain smugness about him. Clearly something had happened to ease his mind.

“Well, what did you do?” asked Evan.

Deaves looked confused. “Well I couldn’t make up my mind what to do,” he confessed. “I I didn’t do anything.”

“Just what I advised,” said Evan. “Then what happened?”

Deaves evaded a direct answer. “I came to ask you if you would accompany me on a little expedition to-night?”

“What for?” demanded Evan.

“Is it necessary for me to tell you? I would pay you well.”

“It’s not a question of pay,” said Evan. “I must know what I’m doing.”

“You wouldn’t approve of my course of action.”

“All the more reason for telling me.”

Deaves still hesitated.

“Let me see the latest letter,” said Evan at a venture.

Deaves stared. “How did you know there was a letter?”

“Well there always is another when the first doesn’t work, isn’t there?”

Deaves looking a little foolish produced a letter and handed it over. Evan read:

“The enclosed speaks for itself. You will please proceed as follows: bearing in mind that the slightest departure from our instructions in the past has invariably been followed by disaster:

You will leave home in your car at eight P.M. Tuesday. You may bring a companion with you in addition to your chauffeur, as we realize you have not the constitution to carry this through alone and we do not wish to ask the impossible. Therefore you may bring the huskiest body-guard obtainable but neither you nor he must bear weapons of any description.

You will proceed over the Queensboro Bridge and wait on the North side of the Plaza at the corner of Stonewall avenue until eight-thirty precisely. You will not get out of your car during this wait. You will be under observation the whole way, and we will instantly be apprised of any departure from our instructions. In that case you will have your trip for nothing and the consequences will be on your head.

At eight-thirty you will proceed out Stonewall avenue to the corner of Beechurst, an insignificant street in the village of Regina. It is about ten minutes’ drive from the Plaza. You will know Beechurst street by the large and ugly stone church with twin towers on your left hand. You get out on the right-hand side and send your chauffeur back. Tell him to return to the bridge Plaza and wait for you.

When he is out of sight you proceed up Beechurst street to the right. It climbs a hill and seems to come to an end in less than a block among a waste of vacant lots. You will find, however, that it is continued by a rough road which you are to follow. It crosses waste lands and passes through a patch of woods. You will be held up on the way, but do not be alarmed. This is merely for the purpose of searching you for weapons.

In the patch of woods further along, you will find two men waiting for you. To them you will deliver the securities. They will examine them and if they are all right you will be allowed to proceed. Do not return the way you came, but continue to follow the rough road. A short way further along it will bring you to a highway with a trolley line by which you may return to the Bridge Plaza.

If you do your part Mr. Simeon Deaves will be home before morning.

THE IKUNAHKATSI.”

“What was the enclosure they speak of?” asked Evan.

“A note from my father.”

“Ah! May I see it?”

“I haven’t it. It was addressed to Culberson, President of the Mid-City Bank.”

“An order?”

“Yes, for Culberson to buy $400,000. of non-registered Liberty bonds and deliver them to me!”

“So he gave in!” cried Evan in strong amazement. “Even Simeon Deaves values his skin more than his money!” he added to himself. “You have already secured the bonds?” he asked Deaves.

The latter nodded. “They’re at home.”

“By God! I hate to let those rascals get away with it!” cried Evan. “Four hundred thousand! Think of the good you could do with such a sum!”

“But they have promised to let us alone for good,” said Deaves eagerly.

“They can afford to!” said Evan dryly. “It fairly drives me wild to think of them triumphing!”

“But you’ll come with me?” said Deaves anxiously.

“Sure, I’ll go with you. I may get a chance at them yet!”

“No! No!” cried Deaves in a panic. “That would ruin everything! You must promise me you will make no attempt against them!”

“I must be free to act as I see fit!” said Evan stubbornly.

“Then I cannot take you!”

“That’s up to you,” said Evan with an indifferent shrug. He turned away.

Deaves lingered in a state of pitiable indecision. “I have no one else I can ask,” he said appealingly. “I beg of you to be reasonable, Weir. You must see that we are helpless against them. Promise me you will do nothing against them, and you may ask me what you like.”

“I want nothing from you,” said Evan coldly. “I won’t promise.”

“Then I must take a servant,” said Deaves helplessly “and perhaps lay myself open to fresh demands from another quarter!” He turned to go.

Evan of course was keen on going. When he saw that Deaves was actually prepared to stick to what he said, Evan gave in.

“I’ll compromise with you,” he said. “I promise to carry out instructions exactly as given in the letter until after the securities are handed over. After that I must be free to act as I see fit.”

“What do you mean to do?” asked Deaves anxiously.

“I don’t know. How can I tell? I’m hoping that something may happen to give me a clue that I may follow up later.”

“Oh well, that’s all right,” said Deaves. “You’ll be at my house before eight then?”

“I’ll be there.”