The clever re-write men did their best on it, and the accounts varied, though the main facts remained the same. Many of the papers ran a two-column cut. Evan bought them all and retired to his room to await developments.

The first came in the shape of a note from George Deaves, reading:

"The bonds were delivered to Mr. Verplanck shortly after my note. He telephoned me, and I have just returned from seeing him. I suggested you as the third member of the trust, to which he was agreeable. You will be in charge of the administration, and a proper salary will be paid you out of the fund. If you are agreeable please see Mr.

Verplanck to-morrow at eleven. Papa has been out since lunch. I shall not mention to him that you had any foreknowledge of the affair, so he won't suspect any collusion between us.

G. D."

Evan answered:

"I accept with pleasure."

Shortly after this, Simeon Deaves turned up at Evan's room. It was evident as soon as he spoke that he had not yet read the afternoon papers. He had been drawn to Evan's room on his wanderings by his insatiable curiosity. Nothing in the room escaped his sharp, furtive glances. The newspapers were lying about. Evan made no attempt to put them away. The old man had to learn soon anyhow.

His glance was caught by his photograph in one of the sheets. He pounced on it. Evan watched him slyly. The old man's face was a study in astonishment.

"What's this!" he cried. "Do you know about it? Half a million for charity! Who got up this lie!" He was as indignant as if he had been accused of stealing the money.

"One of the papers mentioned the exact sum as four hundred thousand,"

said Evan innocently.

"It's a hoax."

"And they said U.S. government bonds, so I supposed the blackmailers must have turned over what they got from you."

"Why should they go to all that trouble just to give it to charity?"

Evan was careful to maintain his detached air. "Well, I thought maybe they were not common crooks, but socialists or anarchists or something like that, who believed in dividing things up, you know."

"The scoundrels!" cried the old man. "I'll put a stop to their game.

I'll see Verplanck and get the bonds back."

"You can't see him to-day," said Evan carelessly. "It's after five.

He lives in the country."

"I'll see him in the morning, then."

"You'll have a chance to talk it over with your son in the meantime."

"What's George got to do with it? The money's mine!"

"Of course," said Evan carelessly.

He let the old man rage on without interruption. When he saw his opportunity he said offhand: "Too bad to spoil this elegant publicity, though."

"What do you mean?"

"It's in all the papers. Every man in the country will read it before to-morrow morning. It will make over your reputation in a night."

"What do I care about my reputation?"

"If you call the scheme off, think how they'll get after you! Not only an obscure sheet like the _Clarion_, but the entire press of the country. Like a pack of hounds. They'll never let the story drop."

This thought gave the old man pause. He scowled at Evan.

Evan was making a pretence of cleaning a palette. "You'd hardly care to venture out in the street after that. You'd be hooted; stoned, perhaps. It's bad enough already. The reason you hired me was to prevent unpleasant experiences. But if every paper in town got after you--well, you couldn't go out except in a closed car."

The old man made a queer noise in his throat, and pulled at his seamy cheek.

Evan went on without appearing to notice him: "It's a swindle, of course, to try to make you out a philanthropist in spite of yourself.

They must have a funny sense of humour. But I couldn't help but be struck by the opportunities for the right kind of publicity. You could turn it so easily to your own advantage."

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"Take this philanthropic trust, or whatever they call it; excursions for poor children! Good Lord! Every sob sister on the press would be good for a column once a week. It's up to you to see that the publicity is properly organised. Every time they give an excursion have the stuff sent out. It's cheap at the price, if you ask me. You couldn't buy it at any price. You'll be received with cheers on the street then. No need to hire a body-guard. And you still do more or less business. Think how it would help you in your business!"

The old man was greatly impressed. "Well, I'll think it over," he said. "It's too much money. I'll offer to compromise with Verplanck on half."

Evan saw that even this was an immense concession. "Talk it over with Mr. George," he said.

"Oh, George is a fool!"

Evan, fearful of overdoing it, let the matter drop. Everything depended on George now. The old man presently departed.

It may be mentioned here, out of its proper place chronologically, that later that night Evan got another note from George Deaves:

"I have had it out with Papa. It took me two hours. But I won. There will be no interference with the Deaves Trust. In the future I mean to be firmer with Papa. I have given in to him too much.

G. D."

At six o'clock Evan heard a quick light step on the stairs and the heart began to thump in his breast. He had been longing for this--and dreading it. Corinna presented herself at his open door. She had newspapers in her hand, and there was no doubt but that she had read them. But if Evan had expected her to be pleased, he was sadly disappointed. Her eyes were flashing.

"What does this mean?" she demanded, waving the papers.

"Dordess wrote the story," said Evan, sparring for time.

"I know he did. I have seen him. He referred me to you."

"Well, the story tells all," said Evan. "I didn't return the bonds, but created a philanthropist out of Simeon Deaves."

"And rehabilitated him in the eyes of the public!" she cried bitterly.

"The unrepentant old scoundrel!"