During his long vigil beside the spruce tree a scheme for dealing out poetic justice all around had occurred to Evan. Of course one can never tell in advance how people are going to take things, but he had chuckled and resolved to try it anyhow. So full was he of his scheme, even in sleep, that he awoke in an hour, and bathed, dressed and breakfasted at his usual time.

On the slip of paper that Corinna had given Evan was written:

Thomas Dordess,
Broadway,
Give Weir the bonds.

C. PLAYFAIR.

Evan presented himself at this address at a few minutes past nine, when offices were just opening. Dordess, it appeared, was not a journalist, as Evan had once guessed, but an architect; that is to say, an elderly architectural draughtsman, one of the race of slaves who help build other men’s reputations.

Early as it was, Dordess had already been apprised of Evan’s coming. Evan had only to look at him to know that. The ironic smile of the man of the world was on his lips, in his eyes the resentful hatred of a youth for his successful rival. The package of bonds was already done up and waiting, it appeared. With scarcely a glance at Corinna’s note, which Evan offered him, Dordess handed it over.

“Better open it and look them over,” he said bitterly.

“Time enough for that,” said Evan. “I want to talk to you.”

Dordess’ eyebrows went up.

“Oh, I know you hate me like the devil,” said Evan. “But I’m hoping you’ll know me better some day. Anyhow, I want to talk to you privately for a few minutes. Is it safe here? I want to put up a scheme to you.”

Dordess indicated the package. “What more is there to say?” he asked with his bitter smile.

“Better hear it,” said Evan. “It may make it easier all around. Won’t hurt you to listen, anyway.”

“All right,” said Dordess. “Can’t talk here. Too many going in and out. I’ll come out with you.”

They ensconced themselves in an alcove of the cafe across the street.

“What’s your scheme?” said Dordess. “Shoot!”

“Well, I gather from your generally humorous style,” said Evan, “that it was you who wrote the letters for the Ikunahkatsi. By the way, what does Ikunahkatsi mean?”

“An Indian word for avengers. Yes, I wrote the letters. What of it?”

“I want you to write one more. Also another article for the Clarion.”

“I would have to consult Miss Playfair.”

“No. She mustn’t know anything about it until later.”

“Nothing doing, then.”

“But listen !”

Their heads drew close over the table, and for five minutes Evan talked uninterruptedly. As Dordess listened his expression changed oddly; a conflict of feelings was visible in his face; incredulity, chagrin, an unwilling admiration, and laughter.

“Damn you!” he cried at last. “It’s true I hate you! I wish to God you were an out and out bad one so I could hate you right. But now you’re trying to bluff me that you’re a decent head! I don’t believe you!”

Evan laughed. “Call my bluff,” he said. “I’d do the writing myself, only it would lose all its effect in another handwriting. And I never could imitate your style.”

“Very well, I’ll do it,” said Dordess. “Come back to my office in an hour and a half and they’ll be ready.”

He was as good as his word. He and Evan laughed grimly together over the result of his labours.

“Send it up by messenger,” said Evan. “It will save time. I’ll be on hand when it arrives.”

It was past eleven when Evan rang the bell of the Deaves house. He was not without anxiety as to the reception he would receive. It was possible that the old man, when he had quieted down, might begin to remember things, and to put two and two together. However, he had to take that chance.

He learned that Simeon Deaves was not yet up, that Mrs. George Deaves was out, and her husband in the library. The latter received him with no friendly face.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said.

Evan excused himself on the score of his anxiety about the old man.

“Papa got home all right,” said George Deaves. “What happened to you last night?”

Evan led him to suppose that his chase had ended in nothing. He asked a cautious question.

“Oh,” said the other. “Papa told a confused story about the house where he was confined being raided by the police, and a chase through the woods. I thought maybe you were mixed up in it.”

The old man had not recognized him, then. Evan was relieved. He affected to be greatly astonished.

“The police!” he said. “Who could have put them on to it? There was nothing in the paper this morning.”

“No, thank Heaven!” said Deaves fervently. “Maybe his mind was wandering. I couldn’t make sense of his story. I hope and pray the thing is done with now.”

But poor George Deaves was due to receive a shock when the second man presently entered.

“Letter by messenger, sir. No answer.”

At the sight of the superscription Deaves turned livid and fell back in his chair. He stared at the envelope like a man bewitched. He moistened his lips and essayed to speak, but no sound came out.

“What’s the matter?” asked Evan when the servant had left.

“Another letter already!” whispered Deaves huskily. “And only yesterday four hundred thousand! What a fool I was to believe in their promises!”

“But open it!” said Evan.

“I can’t I can’t face any more!”

“Let me.”

Deaves feebly shoved it towards him.

Evan tore open the envelope. His cue was to express surprise, and he did not neglect it.

“Listen!” he cried. “This is extraordinary! This is not what you expect!” He read:

“Dear Mr. Deaves:

The securities came safely to hand. Many thanks for your promptness and courtesy in the matter. To be sure, your employee did not obey instructions, but as it happened, no harm came of it. We trust your father got home all right. We so much enjoyed having him with us.

Well, Mr. Deaves, this terminates our very pleasant business relations; that is to say it will terminate them, unless you are disposed to fall in with the new proposition we are about to put up to you ”

George Deaves groaned at this point.

“Wait!” said Evan. “It is not what you think!” He resumed:

“As a testimonial of our gratitude for your favours, we purpose with your approval, to apply your father’s great contribution to a worthy charitable cause in his name. Let Mr. Deaves write a letter to Mr. Cornelius Verplanck, president of the Amsterdam Trust Company, according to the form marked enclosure N. This to be mailed him at once. If this is done in time, the enclosure marked N will appear in all the New York evening papers.

Very sincerely,
THE IKUNAHKATSI.

P. S. It is scarcely necessary to state that Mr. Verplanck does not know the writer or any of his associates. We have chosen him simply because of his national reputation for philanthropy.”

“I don’t understand,” murmured Deaves in a daze. “What are the enclosures?”

Evan read: “Enclosure N: form of letter to be sent to Mr. Verplanck.”

“Dear Mr. Verplanck:

In the course of the day you will receive from me the sum of four hundred thousand dollars in U. S. Government bonds. My wish is that you establish with this sum a fund to be known as the Simeon Deaves Trust, the income of which is to be applied to providing outings on the water for the convalescent poor children of the city. Draw the deed of trust in such a way that the donor cannot at any time later withdraw his gift. Let there be three trustees yourself (if you will be so good as to serve) myself, and a third to be selected by the other two.”

Deaves stared. “And the newspaper story?” he murmured.

Evan read:

“It appears that Simeon Deaves has been the victim of an undeserved unpopularity. Instead of being the soulless money-changer, as the popular view had it, an individual without a thought or desire in life except to heap up riches, he has placed himself in the ranks of our most splendid philanthropists by the creation of the Deaves Trust, the facts of which became known to-day. A sum approximating half a million dollars has been set aside for the purpose of providing fresh air excursions for the convalescent children of the poor. In the administration of the fund Mr. Deaves has associated with himself Mr. Cornelius Verplanck whose name is synonymous with good works. There is to be a third trustee not yet named.

“The convalescent children of the poor! It would be difficult to think of a more praiseworthy object. To bring roses back to little pale cheeks, and the sparkle to dull eyes! Those who have thought harshly of Simeon Deaves owe him a silent apology. Perhaps while people reviled him, he has been carrying out many a good work in secret. Perhaps that was his way of enjoying a joke at the expense of his detractors.

“When approached to-day Mr. Deaves with characteristic modesty, refused to say a word on the subject, referring all inquiries to his associate Mr. Verplanck. Mr. Verplanck said: (Add interview Verplanck.)”

Deaves rose out of his chair. His gaze was a little wild. “Do you suppose they would really print that about my father?” he gasped.

“They say they will,” said Evan with a disinterested air.

“I I can’t believe it! It’s a joke of some kind!”

“It’s worth trying. They don’t ask for anything.”

“What am I to do?” cried Deaves distractedly.

“Put it up to your father.”

“He would never consent!”

“Why not? The money’s gone anyway. He might as well have the reputation of a philanthropist. Won’t cost any more.”

“He would consent! That’s the worst of it. He’d write that letter to Verplanck. Then as soon as Verplanck got the bonds he’d go to him and demand them back. There’d be a horrible scandal then!”

This was a possibility that had not occurred to Evan. His spirits went down. At the moment no way of getting around the difficulty occurred to him.

But George Deaves visibly nerved himself to make a resolution. “I’ll write the letter myself!” he said. “I’ll create the trust in Papa’s name. I won’t tell him anything about it until it’s too late for him to withdraw. He couldn’t get the money back anyhow, if I sent it to Verplanck as from myself.”

Evan was quick to see the advantages of this arrangement, but he took care not to show too much eagerness. “Very good,” he said, “if you are willing to take the responsibility.”

A round pink spot showed in either of Deaves’ waxy cheeks. “Willing!” he said, with more spirit than Evan had ever seen him display. “I’d do anything, anything, to get such a story in the papers! It will make the family! And how pleased Mrs. Deaves will be!”

Evan had his own ideas as to that, but he did not voice them.

Deaves wrote the letter.

“Would you mind posting it on your way out?” he said.

“I’ll take it directly to Mr. Verplanck’s office, since time is an object,” said Evan casually.

“If you will be so good,” said Deaves. A sudden terrified thought arrested him in the act of turning over the letter. “But suppose the bonds are not forthcoming?” he said. “Could Verplanck come down on me for them?”

“Certainly not,” said Evan. “His concern in the matter doesn’t begin until he gets the securities.”

“Well, I’ll take a chance,” said Deaves, handing over the letter.

It is hardly necessary to state that Mr. Verplanck received both the letter and the bonds in short order.