ygon had a new
sense of boldness, a sudden feeling of reprisal, a rushing desire to put
the screw upon him. At sight of this millionaire with the pile of notes
before him there vanished the sickening hesitation of the afternoon, of
the journey with Dupont. The look of the robust, healthy financier was
like acid in a wound; it maddened him.

"You will know me better soon," Lygon added, his head twitching with
excitement.

Henderley recognized him now. He gripped the armchair spasmodically, but
presently regained a complete composure. He knew the game that was forward
here, and he also thought that if once he yielded to blackmail there would
never be an end to it. He made no pretence, but came straight to the
point.

"You can do nothing; there is no proof," he said, with firm assurance.

"There is Dupont," answered Lygon, doggedly.

"Who is Dupont?"

"The French Canadian who helped me--I divided with him."

"You said the man who helped you died. You wrote that to me. I suppose you
are lying now."

Henderley coolly straightened the notes on the table, smoothing out the
wrinkles, arranging them according to their denominations with an
apparently interested eye; yet he was vigilantly watching the outcast
before him. To yield to blackmail would be fatal; not to yield to it--he
could not see his way. He had long ago forgotten the fire and blood and
shame. No Whisperer reminded him of that black page in the history of his
life; he had been immune of conscience. He could not understand this man
before him. It was as bad a case of human degradation as ever he had
seen--he remembered the stalwart, if dissipated, ranchman who had acted on
his instigation. He knew now that he had made a foolish blunder then, that
the scheme had been one of his failures; but he had never looked on it as
with eyes reproving crime. As a hundred thoughts tending toward the
solution of the problem by which he was faced flashed through his mind,
and he rejected them all, he repeated mechanically the phrase "I suppose
you are lying now."

"Dupont is here--not a mile away," was the reply. "He will give proof. He
would go to jail or to the gallows to put you there, if you do not pay. He
is a devil--Dupont."

Still the great man could not see his way out. He must temporize for a
little longer, for rashness might bring scandal or noise; and near by was
his daughter, the apple of his eye.

"What do you want? How much did you figure you could get o