ayed, and--I won't do it
again."

Bromfield hung up the receiver in a cold fury. He restrained himself
for the moment, made the necessary explanations, and went through with
the tea somehow. But as soon as his guests were gone he gave himself
up to his anger. He began planning a revenge on the man who no doubt
was laughing in his sleeve at him. He wanted the fellow exposed,
discredited, and humiliated.

But how? Walking up and down his room like a caged panther, Bromfield
remembered that Lindsay had other enemies in New York, powerful ones
who would be eager to cooperate with him in bringing about the man's
downfall. Was it possible for him to work with them under cover? If
so, in what way?

Clarendon Bromfield was not a criminal, but a conventional member of
society. It was not in his mind or in his character to plot the murder
or mayhem of his rival. What he wanted was a public disgrace, one that
would blare his name out to the newspapers as a law-breaker. He wanted
to sicken Beatrice and her father of their strange infatuation for
Lindsay.

A plan began to unfold itself to him. It was one which called for
expert assistance. He looked up Jerry Durand, got him on the
telephone, and made an appointment to meet him secretly.

CHAPTER XXVII

"NO VIOLENCE"

The ex-pugilist sat back in the chair, chewing an unlighted black
cigar, his fishy eyes fixed on Bromfield. Scars still decorated the
colorless face, souvenirs of a battle in which he had been bested by a
man he hated. Durand had a capacity for silence. He waited now for
this exquisite from the upper world to tell his business.

Clarendon discovered that he had an unexpected repugnance to doing
this. A fastidious sense of the obligations of class served him for a
soul and the thing he was about to do could not be justified even in
his loose code of ethics. He examined the ferule of his Malacca cane
nervously.

"I've come to you, Mr. Durand, about--about a fellow called Lindsay."

The bulbous eyes of the other narrowed. He distrusted on principle all
kid gloves. Those he had met were mostly ambitious reformers.
Furthermore, any stranger who mentioned the name of the Arizonan became
instantly an object of suspicion.

"What about him?"

"I understand that you and he are not on friendly terms. I've gathered
that from what's been told me. Am I correct?"

Durand thrust out his salient chin. "Say! Who the hell are you?
What's eat