writing of those letters a very dangerous thing; otherwise you would
have conducted your business by word of mouth. Believe me, I do not
underrate your genius."

He laid his hands roughly upon the photographs. "I have a mind to have
you arrested this instant," he snarled.

"But you won't," she added--"not while you don't know where the
originals are. It means too much to you. The slightest menacing move
toward me would be fatal to your interests. I don't wish you any harm,
Mr. Gard; I simply want money."

In spite of his perturbation, amazement held him silent. If a shining
angel with harp and halo had confronted him with a proposition to rob a
church, the situation could not have astonished him more. She gave him
time to recover.

"Of course you must readjust your concepts, particularly as to me. You
thought me a rich woman--well, I'm not. I've about twenty-five thousand
dollars left, and a few--resources. My expenses this season will be
unusually heavy."

"Why this season?" He asked the question to gain time. He was thinking
hard.

"My daughter Dorothy makes her début, as perhaps you may have heard."

Gard gave another gasp. Here was a mother blackmailing the Gibraltar of
finance for her little girl's coming-out party. Suddenly, quite as
unexpectedly to himself as to his hearer, he burst into a peal of