"Money enough to satisfy her."

"That won't do. She must have what is hers by right. Her price is one
million dollars," said Peter quietly.

McGuire started up. "You're dreaming," he gasped.

"It's her money."

"But I developed that mine."

"It was her mine that you developed."

McGuire stopped by the window and turned.

"And if I refuse----?"

"I don't think you will----"

The two men stared at each other, but Peter had the whip hand--or
McGuire thought he had, which was quite sufficient.

"Will you help me to perform this act of justice?" Peter went on calmly.
"It's the only thing to do, Mr. McGuire. Can't you see that?"

McGuire paced the floor heavily a few times before replying. And then,

"I've got to think this thing over, Nichols. It's all so very sudden--a
million dollars. My God! man, you talk of a million as if it grew on the
trees." He stopped abruptly before the fireplace and turned to Peter.
"And where does Hawk Kennedy come in on this?"

"Beth Cameron's claim comes before his--or yours," said Peter quietly.
"Whatever happens to either of you--it's not her fault."

Peter hadn't intended a threat. He was simply stating the principal
thought of his mind. But it broke McGuire's front. He leaned upon the
armchair and then fell heavily into it, his head buried in his hands.

"I'll do--whatever you say," he groaned at last, "but you've got to get
me out of this, Nichols. I've got to have that paper."

Peter poured out a drink of the whisky and silently handed it to his
employer.

"Come, Mr. McGuire," he said cheerfully, "we'll do what we can. There'll
be a way to outwit Hawk Kennedy."

"I hope to God there is," muttered McGuire helplessly.

"I'll make a bargain with you."

"What?" asked McGuire helplessly.

"If I get the confession from Kennedy, you give Beth Cameron the money I
ask for."

"No publicity?"

"None. I give you my word on it."

"Well," muttered the old man, "I guess it's coming to her. I'll see." He
paused helplessly. "A million dollars! That's a big sum to get together.
A big price--but not too big to clear this load off my conscience."

"Good. I'm glad you see it in this way."

The old man turned shrewdly. "But I've got to have the proofs----"

"Very well. If you're honest in your intentions you'll help me confirm
the evidence."

"Yes," said the other slowly. "I'll do what I can."

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me what Ben Cameron looked
like----"