. "Blodgett of
Hazelhurst."

"Of course it's unpardonable in me," said Brassfield, "but I don't
remember you, and I fear I've never heard of the place."

"Well," said Judge Blodgett, "it's entirely immaterial. I merely
wanted to say that I've some matters of very great importance to
communicate to you, if you'll just step up to my rooms at the Bellevale
House."

"I can hardly conceive of anything you may have to say," said
Brassfield guardedly, "which can not be as well said here. We are
quite alone."

"I--the fact is," said the judge, floundering, "what I have to say must
be communicated in the presence of a person who is there, a person----"

"May I ask whom?"

"A lady--Madame--Miss Blatherwick."

The cunning of mental limitation again served Brassfield. He
recognized the name as the one mentioned by the professor on the
street. Why this conspiracy to bring him to this strange woman at the
hotel? Was it a plot? Was it blackmail or political trickery, or what?

"I am very much engaged to-night," said he. "Whatever you have to say,
say here, and at once."

The judge felt like seizing his man forcibly, and taking him to Madame
le Claire for restoration. The Brassfield cunning was an impenetrable
defense. Bellevale's chief business man seemed to be himself again, a
keen, cool man of affairs, to whom Judge Blodgett, Professor
Blatherwick and Clara were, except for the brief and troubled intervals
during which the Amidon personality had been brought uppermost,
strangers,--until she could once more bring him within the magic ring
of her occult power. Brought within it he must be, but how? The judge
felt beaten and baffled. Yet he would try one more device.

"The matter can hardly be discussed here," said he, "but I may say that
it relates to the evidence you lack in the Bunn's Ferry well cases. I
happen to know of your desire for proof of certain facts in the spring
of 1896, and----"

Mr. Brassfield started and changed color.

"You know--this woman knows," he said, "something to my advantage in
the matter?"

Judge Blodgett nodded. Brassfield looked at his watch, paced back and
forth, and made as if to follow Blodgett to the door. Blodgett's heart
beat stiflingly.

"You are coming?" said he.

Something in the tone betrayed his anxiety. Again suspicion rose to
dominance in the mind of Brassfield; and entering at the door came Jim
Alvord, and one or two hulking, mustachioed citizens of the