Evan dropped the light in his pocket, and took out his gun. Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, he smartly turned the handle and, flinging the door open, stepped back into the darkness. He saw in the centre of the great, bare, ruinous room an old packing case with a common lamp upon it, and a smaller box to sit on. He saw in the corner an army cot with a little figure lying upon it covered by a carriage robe, a figure which turned over and sat up at the sound of the door. He saw—Corinna!



CHAPTER XXII

TOWARDS MORNING

The shock of astonishment unmanned Evan. His pistol arm dropped weakly at his side, his mouth hung open, he stared like an idiot. To have crept into the house heart in mouth and pistol in hand, to have nerved himself to meet and overcome a desperate criminal—and then to find this! The violence of the reaction threw all his machinery out of gear; he stalled. He felt inclined to laugh weakly.

Corinna could not see him clearly, though presumably she was aware of a figure standing in the hall. She was very much affronted by the violence of the intrusion, and not in the least afraid. She sat up with her glorious hair a little tousled, and her eyes flashing like a diminutive empress's.

"Mr. Straiker, is it you? What does this mean?" she demanded.

Evan could not readily find his tongue. Amazement broke over him in succeeding waves like a surf. Corinna! Corinna here! Corinna a member of the blackmailing gang! Corinna, the chief! Oh, impossible! He was in a nightmare!

"Mr. Straiker!" repeated Corinna more sharply. "Come in at once!" She was on her feet now.

Evan's faculties began to work again. In anticipation he tasted the sweets of perfect revenge. This little creature had put an intolerable humiliation upon him. Very well, here she was absolutely in his power! Dropping the gun in his pocket, he stepped into the room smiling.

At sight of him Corinna did not cry out, but the shock she received was dreadfully evident in her eyes. She went back a step, one hand went to her breast, her lips formed the syllable "You!"—but no sound came from them. Every vestige of color faded from her face.

Evan's gaze burned her up; she was so beautiful, and she had injured him so! "So you're a member of the gang!" he said mockingly.

Corinna quickly recovered her forces. She shrugged disdainfully.

"And even the chief, it seems!"

"So it seems."

Amazement overcame him afresh. "You—you little thing!" he cried. "I cannot believe it!"

Corinna affected to look bored.

"So this was the real work of the brotherhood!" Evan went on. "Blackmail. This was why you couldn't fire them when they threatened you. A new way to raise money for philanthropic purposes, I swear! To hold up a usurer with one hand, and feed poor children with the other!"

"A usurer, yes," said Corinna contemptuously. "Your master!"

"That doesn't get under my skin," retorted Evan coolly. "No man is my master a day longer than I choose." He dissolved in amazement again. "But you! To think up such a scheme! To carry it out!"

"Oh, spare me your bleating!" said Corinna impatiently. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Turn you over to the police," he said promptly.

"Three of my friends are sleeping across the hall," she said.

So perfect was her aplomb that Evan was taken aback. He half turned, uncertainly. But as he did so, out of the tail of his eye he saw Corinna's hand go to her bosom. He whirled back with the gun in his hand again. A woman is at a serious disadvantage in drawing.

"Put your gun on the box," commanded Evan.

"I have no gun!" she cried. "I will not be spoken to so."

Evan took a step nearer her. His eyes glittered. "Put your gun on the box. Don't oblige me to use force. I should enjoy it far too well!"

With a sob of rage, she drew a little pistol from her dress and threw it on the box. Evan possessed himself of it.

"Now we'll see about the three friends across the hall," he said mockingly.

He backed out of the room. Corinna followed to the door. In her eye he read her purpose to make a dash for liberty down the stairs, and he took care to give her no opening. He flung open the door opposite and flashed his light inside the room. It was empty of course. He returned across the hall, and Corinna backed into the lighted room before him.

"They have stepped out, it seems," he said mockingly.

Corinna disdained to reply. Like a child, she was not in the least abashed when her bluff was called, but immediately set her wits to work to think of another.

"How do you purpose taking me to the police?" she asked scornfully.

"I'm not going to take you. They're coming here."

Corinna changed color. She studied his face narrowly. Evidently she decided that he was bluffing now, for she tossed her head.

"Go and sit down on the cot," he said coolly, "so we can talk quietly."

"I will not!" cried Corinna. "How dare you speak to me so!"

He was delighted with the spirit she showed. "It's too bad no one did it long ago," he said provokingly.

He approached her, and his eyes glittered again. Corinna, seething with rage, retreated, and plumped herself down on the cot.

"That's better," he said indulgently. He took the small box and, placing it against the wall, sat down and leaned back. Producing his pipe he filled it in leisurely style, affecting to be unconscious of her. Corinna's eyes blazed on him.

"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" he drawled at last. "You pretty little blackmailer!"

"You needn't insult me!" cried Corinna. Her eyes filled with angry tears.

But Evan's heart was hard. "Insult you!" he cried. "I like that! What have you been doing to me lately?"

"If you were capable of thinking, you would see that I could not have acted otherwise!" she said.

"You have me there," said Evan coolly. "For I don't see the necessity of being a blackmailer."

Corinna jumped up and stamped her foot. Her face reddened, and two large tears rolled down her cheeks. "Don't you dare to use that word to me again, you fool!"

Evan laughed delightedly. "Why shy at the word and commit the deed?"

"You know nothing of the circumstances!" she stormed. "You have neither sense nor feeling! You take all your ideas ready made from others. You are as empty as a drum!"

"Bravo!" he cried. "Keep it up if it makes you feel any better!"

"If it is a crime to extort money from a foul old robber and give it to the poor, all right, I'm a criminal! I glory in it! I would do it all over again!"

"I don't deny one has a sneaking sympathy with a life of crime," Evan said, affecting a judicial air. "But after all, law is law. You have to make your choice. I chose to stay inside the law, and naturally I have to uphold it like everybody on my side."

"You're a nice upholder of the law!" she cried. "You're just trying to get back at me!"

Evan grinned. "You're so frank, Corinna. But after all, being on the side of the law gives me an advantage now, doesn't it?"

"Yes, if you want to take the pay of a scoundrel like Deaves."

"Oh, I was fired some days ago. I'm working on my own now."

"You're just angry and jealous!"

"I dare say. I admit I don't mind your blackmailing operations half as much as the other thing."

"What other thing?"

"Those fellows on the Ernestina; to take advantage of their wanting you, and use them for your own ends."

"Everything was understood between us. Everything was open and aboveboard."

"Of course. But they were already enslaved, you see. And you forced them to serve your pride and arrogance. You queened it over them. That makes me more indignant than blackmailing a usurer, for the other thing's a crime against a man's best feelings, and I'm a man myself."

"You're only jealous!"

"Why should I be. I wouldn't stand for the brotherhood. I know you gave me—or I took—more than you ever gave them."

"You're a brute!"

"Why sure!"

There was a silence. Corinna kept her eyes down. It was impossible to say of what she was thinking. But her passion of anger visibly subsided. She murmured at last:

"If, as you say, you sympathise with me for getting money out of Simeon Deaves——"

"I didn't quite say that," interrupted Evan. "But it's near enough, go on!"

"Why do you want to hand me over to the police?"

It was fun to torment Corinna, and it satisfied his deep need for vengeance. But the sight of her quiet, with the curved lashes lying on her cheeks, and the soft lips drooping, went to his breast like a knife. Vengeance was suddenly appeased. Such a gallant little crook! He realised that not for a moment had he really intended to hand her over. He jumped up.

"I'm not going to send you to jail," he said. "You're going to make restitution."

Corinna stared.

"What do you mean?"

"Give me an order on Dordess for the bonds—if it is Dordess who has them, and give me your word that you will lead an honest life hereafter." He was smiling.

Corinna blazed up afresh. "Never!" she cried. "I'd die rather!"

"You must do it!"

"Why must I?"

"Because you're going to marry me, and naturally I want an honest woman to wife."

Corinna laughed a peal. "I'd die rather! And you know it now!"

Indeed in his heart he was not at all sure but that her Satanic pride might break her before she would give in, but he bluffed it out.

"Come on!" he said. "There's no time to lose. I have sent for the police though you make out not to believe it. I see you've been writing on the table. Sit down and write me an order for the bonds."

"Break up our organisation on your say-so? Never!"

"If you don't the police will. Come now, whatever happens you can't go on using those infatuated boys to further your own ends. That's low, Corinna; that's like offering a starving man husks."

"You have your gun in your pocket," she cried passionately. "Use it, for you'll never break my will!"

"It's not a bullet that waits you, but jail," said Evan grimly. "No grand-stand finish, but endless dragging days in a four-by-ten cell! Come on, give up the loot. You'll have to anyhow, and go to jail in the bargain!"

"It's not loot!" she cried. "It's mine! By every rule of justice and right, it's mine. Simeon Deaves robbed my father. Beggared him and brought him to his grave!"

"Ha!" cried Evan, "I might have guessed there was something personal here! But someone has to lose in the warfare of business."

"This was not the chance of warfare. This was malice, cold and calculated. I'll tell you. It spoiled my childhood. Deaves and my father were workers in the same church. You didn't know, did you, that Deaves was a religious man. Oh, yes, always a pillar of some church until his avarice grew so upon him that he could no longer bring himself to subscribe. My father learned that he was using his position in our church to lend money to other members at usurious interest, and to collect it under threats of exposure. My father showed him up, and Deaves was put out of the church. He set about a cold and patient scheme of revenge, but we didn't learn this until the crash came a couple of years afterwards. He bought up,—what do you call it?—all my father's paper, the notes every merchant has to give to carry on his business. At last he presented all my father's outstanding indebtedness at once with a demand for instant payment, and when my father couldn't meet it, Deaves sold him out, and we were ruined. It killed my father and embittered my mother's few remaining years.

"That was what I grew up with. I don't know when it started, but the determination to punish him grew and grew in my mind until it crowded out every other thought. I planned for years before I did anything. I followed him. I learned all about him. His avarice went to such lengths at last that I began to see my chance to show him up. I met Dordess and the others, and the idea of the Avengers slowly took shape. There was something fine to us in the idea of making him pay to bring pleasure and health to the poor. None of us would spend a cent of his filthy money on ourselves. What have I done to Deaves to repay the crushing blows he dealt to me and mine?—a few pin-pricks, that's all. Well, it is my life. I cannot change it now."

Evan was more softened than he cared to show. "I understand," he said. "It excuses your heart, but not your head. It was so foolish to try to buck the law!"

"I can't help it," she said. "I would rather die than return what I have made that old robber disgorge. I have worked too long for this!"

Evan inwardly groaned. To reason with her seemed so hopeless. "You can't live outside the pale of the law," he said. "No man can, let alone a woman. Only wretchedness can come of it!"

"I'll take my chance," she said with curling lip. "Thank God, I have friends who are not so timid."

Evan changed his tone. "Well, never mind the right and the wrong of it," he said earnestly. "Do it because I love you. I love you with all my heart. We quarrel, but my heart speaks to yours. You must hear it. I have endured from you what I believe no man ever forgave a woman. But I forgive you. If you go to jail my life will be a desert. But go to jail you shall, unless you make restitution!"

Corinna laughed mirthlessly. "Funny kind of love!" she said.

"It is the best kind of love. I have sense enough left to realise that if I give in to you on a clear question of right it would ruin us both. We would despise each other."

"I have promised to trouble the Deaves no further," she said. "They're satisfied."

"The bonds must go back."

"I had already decided to break up the Avengers, too. Isn't that enough?"

He shook his head.

She turned away. "You ask the impossible," she said. "I'd rather die!"

"But to go to jail," he said relentlessly, "to have your beautiful hair cut off" (he was not at all sure of this, but he supposed she was not either), "to wear the hideous prison dress, to have the sickly prison pallor in your clear cheeks, and your eyes dimmed. Your best years, Corinna!"

This went home. She paled; her breath came unevenly. "You say you love me," she murmured, "and you'd hand me over to that."

"I must!"

Corinna said very low: "I love you. Isn't that enough? Costs me something to say it. Costs me my pride. It would have been more merciful to beat me with a club. I cannot entreat you. I never learned how. But—but I am entreating you. Love me, Evan. Let us begin from now. Let the past be past."

Evan was tempted then. His senses reeled. But something held fast. "I can't!" he said.

She shrank sharply. "It is useless, then," she muttered. "I will not be a repentant sinner!"

"For the sake of our love, Corinna!"

"You do not love me. You want to master me."

He groaned in his helplessness.

Suddenly an ominous peremptory knock on the front door rang through the empty house.

"The police!" gasped Evan.

"Then it's over!" said Corinna, desperately calm.

"No!" he cried. "Quick! Write! I'll get you out!"

She dragged him towards the door. "Ah, come! come!" she beseeched him.

The very heart was dragged out of his breast, but he resisted her. "Choose!" he whispered. "A living death or happiness!"

For an instant their desperate eyes contended. Corinna read in his that he would never give in. She ran to the box and scribbled three lines. The knock was repeated below.

She handed him the sheet with averted head. Evan blew out the lamp. Hand in hand they ran softly down-stairs. The knock was repeated for the third time and a gruff voice commanded:

"Open the door or we'll break it down!"

Aunt Liza was in the lower hall whimpering: "Lawsy! What you gwine do, Miss?" And behind her they heard Simeon Deaves muttering confusedly: "What's the matter? What's the matter?"

Evan breathed in Corinna's ear. "The cellar door under the stairs. You lead the woman."

He felt for Simeon Deaves, and got his hand. "Follow me," he whispered. "I'll save you."

Deaves came unresistingly, his old wits in a daze. As Evan got the cellar door open the blows were falling on the front door. He flashed his light to show his little party the way down. He came last and closed the door. As he did so the front door went in with a crash. Joining the others, Evan whispered:

"Take it easy. They'll search the rooms first."

The old man whispered tremulously: "What's the matter? I don't understand."

"Be very quiet," returned Evan. "We're taking you home now. Be quiet and there will be no publicity."

It was a magical suggestion. They heard no more from Deaves.

Meanwhile heavy feet were tramping overhead. Doors were flung open. One man ran up-stairs. There were at least three men. Evan did not think it possible they had come in sufficient force to completely surround the house. It was safe enough to flash his light in the depths of the cellar. He led the way to the foot of the stone steps. The stars showed through the broken door overhead.

Making them wait behind him, he cautiously parted the thick screen of bushes and looked out. Nothing was stirring on this side of the house. The grass and weeds were waist high down to the edge of the woods. It was less than fifty yards to shelter. Evan whispered to his little party:

"Hands and knees through the grass. Take it slow. Each one keep a hand on the ankle of the one in front. Corinna, you go first."

It was done as he ordered. Surely a more oddly-assorted party of fugitives never acted in concert to escape the law: girl, negress, multi-millionaire, and artist. Like a snake with four articulations, they wound through the grass. In the most sophisticated man lingers a wild strain; the stiff-jointed millionaire took to this means of locomotion as naturally as the negress.

As they left the house behind them they came more within the range of vision of those who were presumably watching the front and back. At any rate, while they were still fifty feet from the trees, a hoarse voice was raised from the front: "There they go!" And an answering shout came from the rear.

The four fugitives of one accord rose to their feet and dashed for the trees. Gaining the shadows, Corinna whispered:

"We must separate. You take Deaves."

Evan pressed her own revolver back in her hand, whispering: "Fire it off if you are in danger."

Seizing Deaves' hand, Evan pulled him away to the right. Corinna and Aunt Liza melted in the other direction. The old man came through the underbrush like a reaping machine, and of course the police took after them. For a moment Evan considered abandoning him. He would come to no harm, of course. But on the other hand, Evan now ardently desired to have the whole affair hushed up. He got Deaves across the rough road in safety, and on the other side, coming to an immense spruce tree with drooping branches, he dragged him under it, and they sank down on a fragrant bed of needles.

The pursuing policemen, coming to the road, instinctively turned off upon it, and Evan knew they were safe for the moment. Presently they came back, aimlessly threshing the woods and flashing their lights, but they had lost the trail now. They were looking for a needle in a hay-stack. Evan's only fear was that they might stumble on Charley, but he heard no sounds from that direction that indicated they had done so. The sounds of searching moved off to the other side of the road, and Evan determined to go to Charley himself.

Leaving the old man with a whispered admonition to silence, Evan set off. He found Charley where he had left him under the leafy bush. Evan whispered in his ear:

"I found her. I am on your side now. The police are all around us. Make no sound!"

He unbound Charley. The latter sat up and rubbed his ankles. Whatever he thought of the new turn of affairs, he said nothing.

Evan said: "I have Deaves back here. Follow me."

Foot by foot they crept back in a course parallel to the rough road. Hearing footsteps approach, they hugged the earth. Two men passed in the road. One was saying:

"Send Wilson back in the car to the road house to telephone for enough men to surround this patch of woods. You patrol the road outside."

Evan and Charley crept away through the underbrush like foxes at the sight of the hunter.

They reached the big spruce tree without further accident. The old man greeted them with a moan of relief. Evan and Charley drew away from him a little while they consulted.

Evan said: "Corinna and Aunt Liza are somewhere in the woods across the road. We had to separate. How can we get in touch with them?"

"They'll be all right," muttered Charley. "Corinna knows this place. They're safer than we are."

"I can't leave here until I am more sure," said Evan. "Will you take the old man and put him on the way home?"

"All right."

"How will you go? I'll have to follow you later."

"The Lafayette trolley line will be watched, and the Yonkers line stops at one o'clock. We'll have to walk to Yonkers. Follow the road through the woods in the other direction, and it will put you on a regular road. Keep going in a westerly direction."

"I get you," said Evan. "Where does Corinna live?"

"What do you want to know for?" growled Charley.

"If I hear nothing from her here, I want to go to make sure she got home all right."

"Well, I won't tell you."

"Everything is changed now. I am on your side and hers."

"I hear you say it," Charley said sullenly.

Evan's sense of justice forced him to admit that Charley was justified. "Well, will you do this?" he said. "When you've got the old man off your hands, go to her place yourself, and then come to me and tell me if she's all right."

"I'll do it if she wants me to," Charley said.

"Here's your flashlight," said Evan. "I'll keep the gun a little while, in case Corinna calls for my help."

Charley pocketed the light in silence and led the old man forth from under the tree. Simeon Deaves that night was like a pet dog on a leader, passed impatiently from hand to hand.

Evan, fancying that the thick branches hindered him from hearing, crept out and lay down on the grass. The woods were not so thick in this place. This had evidently been part of the grounds surrounding the old house in its palmy days, and the spruce was a relic of those times. He heard an automobile approach in the highway, and stop at the end of the woods track. This would be the man returning from having telephoned. All sounds of the search through the woods had ceased. Evidently they had decided that the better way was to watch all outlets.

No sound from any quarter betrayed the whereabouts of Corinna and the old negress. They were swallowed up as completely as if they had taken to their burrows like rabbits. Evan's heart was with her, wherever she was. He had not the same anxious solicitude for her that one would have for an ordinary woman hunted in the dark woods, for he was well assured that Corinna was not a prey to imaginary terrors. She would be no less at home in the woods at night than he was. Still no sound came from her. He was not at all sure that she would summon him if hard pressed, but they could not take her without his hearing it.

In the end the greying sky in the East bade him consider his own retreat if he wished to avoid capture. He had committed no crime, of course, but he was very sensible of the awkwardness of trying to explain his own share in the night's doings, should he be taken. He had good hopes that Corinna had escaped by now. He started to make his way westward.

He made a wide detour around the house and struck into the rough track on the other side, travelling softly, and keeping his ears open. He had heard no searchers on this side. After a half mile or so he saw light through the trees ahead. He saw a road bounding the woods on this side, and open fields beyond.

He struck into the woods again, and took a cautious reconnaisance of the road from the underbrush before venturing upon it—the world was filled with ghostly light now. It was well that he did so, for he saw a burly individual loafing in the highway, with his eye on the end of the wood track. He wore civilian clothes, but "policeman" was written all over him.

Evan had to get across that road somehow, but it was so straight the watcher could see half a mile in either direction. And on the other side there was no cover, only cultivated fields. There was one spot some hundreds of yards north where the road dipped into a hollow and was lost to view for a short space. Evan, keeping well within the woods, made for that.

There was a stream with a bridge over it. By hugging the edge of the stream and ducking under the bridge he made the other side of the road. A field of growing corn received him.

That was his last serious hazard. In the sweet coolness of the dawn he made his way over field after field, keeping the sunrise at his back. He crossed the roads circumspectly and gave the villages a wide berth. Finally he climbed a wooded hill, and from the other side looked down into the city of Yonkers. Here he ventured to show himself openly, took a car for town, and an hour and a half later was climbing the stairs to his own room. His heart was heavy with anxiety.

When he entered he saw Charley sitting at his table with his head on his arms, asleep. Evan's heart leaped. He shook the sleeper.

"Is she all right?" he cried.

Charley lifted a sullen and resentful face. "She got home all right," he muttered, and immediately started for the door, still swaying with sleep.

"Wait a minute," said Evan. "Here's your gun."

Charley held out his hand for it without looking at the other.

Evan no longer blamed Charley for what had seemed like treachery. Indeed, his heart was warm now towards his old friend. "Don't you want to stop and talk things over?" he said.

"I have nothing to say to you," Charley said sorely, and went on out.

Evan, with a sigh, turned bedwards.



CHAPTER XXIII

SIMEON DEAVES TURNS PHILANTHROPIST

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 No. 1. This to be mailed him at once. If this is done in time, the enclosure marked No. 2 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 No. 1: 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.



CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

The Simeon Deaves story began to appear in the editions that came out at four o'clock that afternoon. Every paper in New York featured it. The clever re-write men did their best on it, and the accounts varied, though the main facts remained the same. Many of the papers ran a two-column cut. Evan bought them all and retired to his room to await developments.

The first came in the shape of a note from George Deaves, reading:

"The bonds were delivered to Mr. Verplanck shortly after my note. He telephoned me, and I have just returned from seeing him. I suggested you as the third member of the trust, to which he was agreeable. You will be in charge of the administration, and a proper salary will be paid you out of the fund. If you are agreeable please see Mr. Verplanck to-morrow at eleven. Papa has been out since lunch. I shall not mention to him that you had any foreknowledge of the affair, so he won't suspect any collusion between us.

G. D."

Evan answered:

"I accept with pleasure."

Shortly after this, Simeon Deaves turned up at Evan's room. It was evident as soon as he spoke that he had not yet read the afternoon papers. He had been drawn to Evan's room on his wanderings by his insatiable curiosity. Nothing in the room escaped his sharp, furtive glances. The newspapers were lying about. Evan made no attempt to put them away. The old man had to learn soon anyhow.

His glance was caught by his photograph in one of the sheets. He pounced on it. Evan watched him slyly. The old man's face was a study in astonishment.

"What's this!" he cried. "Do you know about it? Half a million for charity! Who got up this lie!" He was as indignant as if he had been accused of stealing the money.

"One of the papers mentioned the exact sum as four hundred thousand," said Evan innocently.

"It's a hoax."

"And they said U.S. government bonds, so I supposed the blackmailers must have turned over what they got from you."

"Why should they go to all that trouble just to give it to charity?"

Evan was careful to maintain his detached air. "Well, I thought maybe they were not common crooks, but socialists or anarchists or something like that, who believed in dividing things up, you know."

"The scoundrels!" cried the old man. "I'll put a stop to their game. I'll see Verplanck and get the bonds back."

"You can't see him to-day," said Evan carelessly. "It's after five. He lives in the country."

"I'll see him in the morning, then."

"You'll have a chance to talk it over with your son in the meantime."

"What's George got to do with it? The money's mine!"

"Of course," said Evan carelessly.

He let the old man rage on without interruption. When he saw his opportunity he said offhand: "Too bad to spoil this elegant publicity, though."

"What do you mean?"

"It's in all the papers. Every man in the country will read it before to-morrow morning. It will make over your reputation in a night."

"What do I care about my reputation?"

"If you call the scheme off, think how they'll get after you! Not only an obscure sheet like the Clarion, but the entire press of the country. Like a pack of hounds. They'll never let the story drop."

This thought gave the old man pause. He scowled at Evan.

Evan was making a pretence of cleaning a palette. "You'd hardly care to venture out in the street after that. You'd be hooted; stoned, perhaps. It's bad enough already. The reason you hired me was to prevent unpleasant experiences. But if every paper in town got after you—well, you couldn't go out except in a closed car."

The old man made a queer noise in his throat, and pulled at his seamy cheek.

Evan went on without appearing to notice him: "It's a swindle, of course, to try to make you out a philanthropist in spite of yourself. They must have a funny sense of humour. But I couldn't help but be struck by the opportunities for the right kind of publicity. You could turn it so easily to your own advantage."

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"Take this philanthropic trust, or whatever they call it; excursions for poor children! Good Lord! Every sob sister on the press would be good for a column once a week. It's up to you to see that the publicity is properly organised. Every time they give an excursion have the stuff sent out. It's cheap at the price, if you ask me. You couldn't buy it at any price. You'll be received with cheers on the street then. No need to hire a body-guard. And you still do more or less business. Think how it would help you in your business!"

The old man was greatly impressed. "Well, I'll think it over," he said. "It's too much money. I'll offer to compromise with Verplanck on half."

Evan saw that even this was an immense concession. "Talk it over with Mr. George," he said.

"Oh, George is a fool!"

Evan, fearful of overdoing it, let the matter drop. Everything depended on George now. The old man presently departed.

It may be mentioned here, out of its proper place chronologically, that later that night Evan got another note from George Deaves:

"I have had it out with Papa. It took me two hours. But I won. There will be no interference with the Deaves Trust. In the future I mean to be firmer with Papa. I have given in to him too much.

G. D."

At six o'clock Evan heard a quick light step on the stairs and the heart began to thump in his breast. He had been longing for this—and dreading it. Corinna presented herself at his open door. She had newspapers in her hand, and there was no doubt but that she had read them. But if Evan had expected her to be pleased, he was sadly disappointed. Her eyes were flashing.

"What does this mean?" she demanded, waving the papers.

"Dordess wrote the story," said Evan, sparring for time.

"I know he did. I have seen him. He referred me to you."

"Well, the story tells all," said Evan. "I didn't return the bonds, but created a philanthropist out of Simeon Deaves."

"And rehabilitated him in the eyes of the public!" she cried bitterly. "The unrepentant old scoundrel!"

"He'll find popularity so sweet he'll have to live up to it."

"He doesn't deserve it!"

Evan was moved to protest. "Look here, Corinna, you've nourished your grudge against him for so long that you've positively fallen in love with it. You're just sore now because it has been removed!"

"I might have expected you to say that!"

"Be fair, Corinna. I threshed my brains to find a way out that would do everybody good. And this is all the thanks I get!"

"Much obliged, but I don't care to have anybody play Providence to me. I expect to be consulted in matters that concern me. Good for everybody, you say. How is the Deaves Trust good for me?"

"Why, the sum for supporting the excursions remains intact; the very sum you asked for."

"But you've ousted me!"

"Not at all. What the papers do not state is that I have been appointed the third trustee with power to administer the fund."

"What good will that do me?"

Evan said very off-hand: "Well, I thought you were going to administer me."

He did not look at her as he said it. She gave him no sign. She was silent for so long that a great anxiety arose within him. Yet he felt that to speak again would only be to weaken his plea. He looked at her. The shining head was studiously averted, the long lashes down.

Finally she said, low and firmly: "It is impossible."

"Why?" he demanded.

"You want a clinging vine," she said scornfully. "A tame woman who will look up to you as the source of all wisdom!"

"If I did would I be asking you?" he said dryly.

"You hope to tame me."

"Never! The shoe is on the other foot. You want a husband whose neck you can tread on."

"What difference does it make whose fault it is?" she said wearily. "The fact remains we would quarrel endlessly and hatefully. It would be degrading!"

"People who love each other always quarrel," said Evan cheerfully. "There's no harm in it."

She stared at him.

"Let us quarrel—and continue to respect each other!"

She shook her head. "You speak about it too coldly."

"Cold—I?" he said. "You silence me when you say that! You know I am not cold!"

"It is better for us to part," she said, moving towards the door.

He hastened to get between her and the door. "Corinna, the reason I am obliged to fight you is because you wield such a dreadful power! In reality I am terrified of you! If you married me I would have no defences at all! I would be at your mercy because I love you so!"

"You're always laughing at me," she murmured.

"I swear I am not! People who love do not make bargains, Corinna. All that I am or ever will be is yours. Take me and make what you can of it!"

Corinna, who had not looked at him all this while, now turned a comical face of remonstrance. "But you mustn't!" she said. "You mustn't give in to me like that! You must oppose my temper and my wilfulness, whatever I say!"

It was Evan's turn to stare. Then he understood that this was surrender—Corinna's way. He laughed in pure delight and opened his arms. "Come here, you wretch!"

She sidled towards him, blushing deeply, intolerably confused.



POSTSCRIPT

Two weeks later. The Executive Committee of the Deaves Trust was holding an informal meeting. Said Evan:

"The Ernestina is in commission again, but of course we don't want her as long as the present skipper is in charge. I have found a new boat, the Thomas Higgins, safe and comfortable. The only thing against her is her name, and I propose to change that to Corinna."

"Silly!" said the other member of the committee.

"The owners have made me a fair price, and the other trustees have authorized me to purchase her outright."

"Won't that take all our money?"

"No, indeed. I have arranged to run her three days a week to the town of Redport, which wants a steam-boat service with the city. The merchants of the town have guaranteed an amount of business sufficient to pay operating expenses and interest on the investment. In addition, on Thursdays and Sundays she will be available for charter. On Sundays we can always get a big price for her. So you see, we'll not only have our own steamboat, but our income, too."

"How clever you are!" said Corinna.

"After I arranged about that I went to see Dordess——"

"Was he friendly?"—this anxiously.

"Yes, indeed. We understand each other. I always was attracted to him, and he is resigned to the inevitable now. He says he's content to be an uncle to our children."

"Evan!"

"He was to sound the other fellows, you know, and find out how they were disposed towards the new trips. Well, Anway and Tenterden decline with thanks. That was to be expected. But the others, Domville, Burgess, Minturn, and that odd little chap in the grey suit with the big eyes——"

"Paul Roman."

"Yes, they're all crazy to come. They have accepted me as a necessary evil. The little fellow, Roman, came into Dordess's office while I was there. Shook hands with me like a little man. He has pluck, that kid. I will never forget the dogged way he trailed me. By the way, why did you never take him on the Ernestina?"

"We did sometimes, and sometimes he remained on shore to trail Simeon Deaves. He made up as a girl, and you never spotted him. When you came aboard the Ernestina we had to hide him."

"The deuce you did!"

"What about Charley Straiker, Evan?"

"He's coming, too. Dear old Charl! We have had a heart-to-heart talk. Everything is fixed up between us. You have never told me how you got hold of him that day. I didn't like to ask him. Too sore a subject."

"There's nothing much to tell. I was in the library reading-room that morning, not to get the money but just to watch out for danger. Paul Roman got the books out. I saw Charley come in and sit down beside him, and I knew what was up. I immediately went and sat down on the other side of Charley. He was glad to see me. I was quite frank with him. I introduced Paul Roman to him. I told him my story. It won his heart, that's all."

"It wasn't the story, but your eyes, confound them!"

"Oh, you never will believe that anybody can be influenced by disinterested motives!"

"How did you find out that other time that the bills were marked?"

"Tenterden has a brother in a bank. He told us about the warning sent out by the Mid-City Bank."

"Corinna, how did you ever come to chum up with a woman like Maud Deaves?"

"I didn't chum up with her. I never laid eyes on the woman. It came about gradually. I found out early in the game that when we sent letters to her it had the effect of exerting a tremendous pressure on her husband to pay. Later, through the servants, whom Paul Roman had bribed for me, I found out that she was in money difficulties. After that every time we got the money I sent her part, and she worked for us like one of ourselves. We never failed to get the money one way or another, as you know."

"I know," said Evan ruefully.

"But don't let us talk of those times any more. It's a sore subject with me, too."

"One more question, and I'll drop it forever. Confess that you came and took a room at 45A Washington Square for the especial purpose of seducing me."

"Evan! What a word to use!"

"I used it merely in a figurative sense, my child. Confess!"

"Well, of course when Paul Roman reported all that had happened that day, and where you lived, and later when I learned through the Deaves' servants that you had been engaged to go around with the old man, my first thought was to win you to our side. Paul reported that you were a gentleman, and seemed like a good sort of fellow."

"Oh, he did, did he?"

"In such a position, of course, if you were against us you could ruin everything; while if you were on our side you would be invaluable. So I went to that house and took a room, hoping to become acquainted with you."

"You didn't stay long."

She looked at him through her lashes. "No, I fell in love with you, confound you! It spoiled everything!"

"Corinna!" he cried delightedly. "I am beginning to think I shall yet succeed in grafting a sense of humour on you!"



THE END