ves at 3:15 P.M. to-morrow. You get out on it. Do you
understand?"

"Thank you!--but this place suits me. I like it and I'm going to
stay."

"You are,--eh! If you don't get out with to-morrow's train you'll go
out the day following, in a box, feet first."

"Yes! Judging from what happened early this afternoon, I daresay you
are quite equal to that kind of thing," said Phil quietly. "But I'm
going to stay all the same."

"You won't get a job within twenty miles of Vernock. If you do, you
won't hold it, for every man in the district will know you for what
you are,--an ex-jailbird."

"Who will tell them?"

"I will."

"No, you won't!"

"Won't I? Try it out and I'll show you quick enough."

Phil went over to Brenchfield's desk.

"I suppose you think your tracks are pretty well covered up after five
years."

"I have none to cover," retorted Brenchfield. "I don't know you
personally; never did know you;--don't want to know you. I do know you
by reputation for an escaped jailbird and a would-be blackmailer, who
will be back where he belongs before he is much older. Get that?"

"Yes,--I got it," answered Phil, desperate, and almost beaten, when an
imp in his mind set him busy.

"I'm going to stay here, Graham, and you're not going to try to
prevent me or say a word that would injure my standing. If you do,
then God help you."

Brenchfield laughed up at the ceiling.

"Five years ago," went on Phil, "you wrote a little note in cypher and
left it with me when you turned tail and ran away. Maybe you have
forgotten about that note. Well,--written things have a habit of
turning up."

Brenchfield's bravado oozed away. His hard face grew pale.

"You're lying. You burned that note."

"Did I?"

"If you didn't, it would have been found and would have come out in
the evidence."

"Perhaps!"

Phil put his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket, as if to bring
out the paper, then he appeared to change his mind, for he desisted
and made as if to leave.

Brenchfield jumped up quickly, sprang for the door and stood with his
back to it.

"Damn you! How much do you want?"

"Nothing!"

"Name your price and give me that note."

"It is priceless."

"Good heavens, man!--you need money. You're a pauper. I can make you
comfortable. I can get you a position that will make you secure for
life."

Phil slowly picked up his own money that he had thrown on the desk and
put it in his trouser pocket.

"Much obliged!"