do anything so foolish as that."

"Well, it's a bit too much to be dragged all the way up-town just to
listen to a re-hash of yesterday's row," said Evan.

"The situation is entirely changed," said George Deaves mysteriously.

"Well, I don't know anything about that!"

Deaves shoved a letter across his desk towards Evan. Evan read:

"Mrs. George Deaves:

Dear Madam:

I beg to return herewith the $5,000 in marked bills that your husband
left for us yesterday. We are too old birds to be caught with such
chaff. The story, a copy of which I sent Mr. Deaves yesterday, goes to
the _Clarion_ at eleven A.M. to-day for publication in this evening's
edition. If you wish to stop it you must persuade Mr. Deaves to find a
similar sum in clean straight money before that hour. These bills must
be put in an envelope and addressed to Mr. Carlton Hassell at the
Barbizon Club, Fifth avenue near Ninth street. Your messenger must
simply hand it in at the door and leave. If there is any departure
from these instructions the money will not be touched, and the story
goes through.

With best wishes,

Yours most sincerely,
THE IKUNAHKATSI."

"Good Heavens!" cried Evan amazed. "Do you mean to say the money was
returned?"

George Deaves nodded.

"And addressed to your wife? What a colossal nerve! What have you
done? You haven't sent fresh bills?"

Another nod answered him, a somewhat sheepish nod.

"Maud made him," snarled the old man. "Insisted on taking the money
down herself and sent it in by the chauffeur."

"But you've communicated with Mr. Hassell?"

"Do you know him?" demanded George Deaves sharply.

"Why of course, as everybody knows him. The most famous landscape
painter in America--or at least the most popular. His pictures bring
thousands!"

"What good to communicate with him?" said Deaves sullenly. "I might
better have him arrested."

"But don't you see," urged Evan, "Hassell couldn't have had anything to
do with this, not with the money he makes and his reputation? Not
unless he were crazy, and he's the sanest of men! It's as clear as
day. They're just using his name. Easy enough for somebody else to
get the letter at the club."

"Is this a trick?" muttered George Deaves scowling.

Evan laughed in exasperation. "Why sure! if you want it that way.
It's nothing to me one way or the other." He turned to go.

"Wait a minute," said Deaves. "Why wouldn't it be better to call up
the