but immediately took courage. Though Marvin's death had left the
secretary no legacy it had also robbed the blackmailer of his power.

Hicks advanced with what he intended to be a winning smile and extended
a hot, fat hand.

"I see the old man has croaked and I was just dropping in to talk
business," Hicks's newsboy voice growled out.

"Hicks," said Owen, keeping his hand in his pocket, "if you came here
to get your money out of the legacy old man Marvin was to leave me.
Well, you won't get it and you never will get it. Marvin didn't leave
me a cent, so there is nothing for you to get. He did leave me a job
in his will, a job that will last for a year, and neither you nor any
one else can force me out of that job. You can't blackmail me any
more."

"At the end of the year what becomes of you?" asked Hicks.

"Then I get a position somewhere else; but that is none of your
business."

"You don't want a position, Owen. A position calls for work. You
don't like hard work any more then I do. You can't stand work much
longer, either. Look at your eyes and your skin, how many grains do
you take a day, anyway?"

"I haven't touched a grain of morphine in six months," lied Owen. "But
get out of my way--you can't get anything out of me and you can't
blackmail me. If you come to this house again I'll have you thrown