Elton Dawbridge grinned.

"You have the situation nicely sized up, haven't you? I'd be willing to bet you that all the tricks in your bag wouldn't upset that scheme."

Gillian lifted his heavy black eyebrows. "Really, Elton? I didn't know you were a gambler. I thought you never laid money on anything but fixed fights."

"This fight is fixed."

"But just how much of a bet did you have in mind?"

"I'd bet everything I own!"

"Let's get this straight. You would bet everything you own that I could not spring any surprise, or trick, to knock this beautiful scheme of yours into a c.o.c.ked hat?"

The county prosecutor was looking at him with narrowed eyes.

"That's what I said!" he snapped. I'd bet everything, I own including the shirt on my back that my scheme is going through as I've stated."

"How much," Gillian inquired, "is everything you own, converted into cold cash?"

Elton Dawbridge laughed harshly. It sounded like a bark.

"A hundred and fifty thousand dollars!"

Gillian looked astonished. "You really mean, Elton, that you'd bet that sum that I could not spring a surprise that would ruin your little scheme?"

"Every dollar of it! That's how sure I am. That puts a cash value on the risk you'd run in touching this case. You can consider it, if you wish, a warning."

Gillian was studying his cigar ash. He looked at Dawbridge gravely.

"Elton," he said, "you aren't being fair. You know you're taking advantage of my worst weakness. You know how I love to gamble. You know I can't resist a sporting proposition."

The county prosecutor reached for the doork.n.o.b. "This joke's gone far enough. Get out of this town, Hazeltine, and stay out."

"But I'm taking your bet!" Gillian answered. "I'm betting you a hundred and fifty thousand that I can upset your little scheme. Supposing we each deposit one hundred and fifty thousand cash in any bank you name in escrow. Winner takes all. If you land Jim Truman in the hot seata"you get it all. If I get him an unconditional verdicta" the pot's mine."

The county prosecutor was glaring at him.

"You can't do it honestly!" he barked.

"My dear man," Gillian smiled coldly, "when was I ever accused of being honest?"

"All right!" Dawbridge shouted. "I say you can't do it honestly or dishonestly-"

"Does that meana"the bet stands?"

"You're d.a.m.ned right it does! Bring out your tricks! Trot out your surprises! I've got this case right here!" He extended a clenched fist. "Right in here! This is my town. The case will be tried by my judge. You're getting weak-minded, Hazeltine. You're a fool!"

"I've been called worse names than that by rank amateurs," Gillian cheerfully returned. "It's too bad about poor old Jeff Pavlitch, isn't it?"

The county prosecutor's eyes narrowed and hardened.

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you heard? He was run down and killed by an automobile just a couple of hours ago."

"By an automobile?"

Gillian smiled. "You didn't think, did you, Elton, that some one called him out of the house and led him down to the fork where a gang was waiting to bash his skull in?"

Elton Dawbridge licked his lips.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking," Gillian said calmly, "about the only witness who could take the stand and tell the real truth about your sidekick Amos Grundle. Pavlitch is dead."

Dawbridge shook his head with a thin smile.

"Isn't that too bad? It's really a pity. Poor Pavlitch! You know, Hazeltine, it's a queer thing, but I've noticed around here, in Clinton, that people who talk too much often do get hit by pa.s.sing automobiles. They suddenly seem to grow careless with their lives, as it were. You might bear that in mind."

" Thank you," Gillian said, "I will. And I want to tell you a queer thing, too. There is a gang of young fellers back home who seem to have the strangest respect for my lifea"and a positive dislike for any one who takes liberties with it. A man who didn't seem to like me tried to kill me one time by putting dynamite under the hood of my car. When I turned on the ignition, an electrical connection was to be made that would set the dynamite off. But one of this gang of young fellers caught him as he was attaching this to my car. I know it sounds incredible, but when that man's body was found in the river a week later, there were two hundred and seven bullet holes in him by actual count."

The county prosecutor was grinning. "I understand. You think you can bluff me, don't you, Hazeltine? You think you're going to lick me with one hand tied behind you."

"Not at all," Gillian protested. "I am a very modest man. I expect to use both hands and both feet."

"And strike below the belt plenty!"

"When in Rome," Gillian answered.

"I always conduct myself in accordance with the standards set by the Romans. In Clinton, I will naturally stoop to anything. One of the reasons for my success is my adaptability. I never hesitate a moment in adopting the methods of my opponents regardless of their questionability."

Dawbridge nodded, still smiling. "I think we understand each other perfectly. Are there any details we haven't discussed?"

Gillian was suddenly hard of lip and eye.

"We will have to have one ironclad agreement before you leave this office. There is to be absolutely no third-degree stuff pulled on the Hearthstone girl."

"I wouldn't dream of such a thing!" Dawbridge exclaimed.

"No clever little tortures," Gillian said. "No dope in her food. No keeping her awake hour after hour. If you or any of your pups lay a hand on that girla"fireworks! With machine guns and anything else available. The same goes for Truman, Question them within legal limits a"no more. I'm going to keep in touch with those two babes in the wood. If they say you're getting rougha"I'm just as apt as not to bring that gang here. And if any attempts are made to prevent me from having access at any hour to them, I'll blast. Got that?"

The county prosecutor opened the door.

"My!" he breathed. "But aren't you hard! You send cold chills all over me, Mr. Hazeltine. I'm almost afraid of my own shadow. I've got it. And what I said before still goes, you're weak-minded."

CHAPTER 10. OPENING SHOT.

WHEN Dawbridge was gone, Gillian resumed his pacing. He walked up and down the little office, puffing at his cigar. Seth Peters followed his movements now with wide-eyed amazement verging on bewilderment.

"Gee whiz, Mr. Hazeltine," he said in an awed voice, "you must have had a swell idea all of a sudden."

The Silver Fox stopped and looked at him. "What do, you mean?"

"Well, a minute ago, you didn't have the slightest idea what Jim's defense would be. You must have struck a dandy!"

Gillian folded his arms and looked at the pale young lawyer as if he were puzzled.

"I struck a dandy idea hours ago. It's just beginning to grow up. In a little more time, it's going to be ripe and huskya"with whiskers."

"Whiskers?"

"Black ones."

"You're back to the bogeyman," Peters groaned.

"My dear boy, I've never let the bogey man out of my sight."

"You don't mean to tell me you are going to put Nettie Jarvis on the stand and try to make a jury believe in the black-bearded stranger? Gee, Mr. Hazeltine, everybody in town knows she's a terrible old liar. You'll be laughed out of court."

Gillian's eyes were twinkling. "Think so, kid?"

"There isn't any question about it. How can that old liar have any weight against Dawbridge's case? There's the jeweler who knows the diamond was Jim's. And there's the coroner who found the diamond in Grundle's heart. Even if Nellie doesn't take the stand and spill everything with her story, Dawbridge has an airtight circ.u.mstantial case, hasn't he?"

No case is airtight until the last rivet is in."

"You're going to lose that, bet, Mr. Hazeltine."

"How," Gillian asked, "would you like to lay a little side bet?"

The young man laughed. "I haven't even paid my last week's board bill. Besides, I-I know you're going to win." He didn't say this very decisively. Seth Peters was, in fact, more than doubtful that Gillian had a chance to win that bet. But he realized that, if Gillian won the case, his own future was a.s.sured.

These reflections were interrupted by a gentle knock at the door. The youngster called out: "Come in!"

The door opened to admit a white-haired old man. Through thick, gold rimmed gla.s.ses he peered at Seth Peters, then at Gillian.

"Excuse me, Seth," he said. "I thought you were alone."

"It's all right. Come in, Pete. This is Gillian Hazeltine. Mr. Hazeltine, this is Pete Wardell, the orphanage superintendent. Pete, Mr. Hazeltine is taking the case. How's that for good news?"

The old man peered at Gillian.

"That is, indeed, good news. I am delighted to know you, Mr. Hazeltine; and I do hope you can do something for that poor boy and Nellie. She is a splendid girl. She was like my own daughter."

"I take it," Gillian said, "that you did not know the kind of man Grundle was when she went to work in his house."

"I certainly did not, sir. It came as a shocking surprise. And the accusations made by Dawbridge, that filthy-minded, despicable-" The old man's voice was shaking so with emotion he could not go on. He cleared his throat and said: "I am sure that you will put that rascal where he belongs, Mr. Hazeltine."

"I'm going to do my best."

The orphanage superintendent turned to Seth. "You are still on the case?"

"Yes. Mr. Hazeltine is, nominally, my a.s.sociate counsel, but actually I am his office boy. I'm going to learn something about criminal law. It will be a wonderful chance for me."

"I came up here," Pete Wardell said, "to tell you a rather curious thing I just learned, Seth. It may be of no valuea"it may be useful. I just found Jumbo Waller, lying drunk in a doorway, and I took him home. Jumbo," the old man explained to Gillian, "is a sort of a.s.sistant to Dr. Vollmer, the coroner. The coroner has an undertaking establishment which serves, in times like this, as the city morgue. The body of Amos Grundle is there now. It is to be taken to the crematory tomorrow morning."

"I read about that in the papers," Gillian said. "Grundle once stated that he wished to be cremated. He had some curious superst.i.tion about being buried."

"Yes, sir. And this Jumbo Waller told me a mighty curious thing. He said that Dr. Vollmer did not find that diamond in Grundle's heart at all."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir. It was embedded in a rib above the hearta"the third rib down."

Seth Peters grunted. "Well, it served its purpose just the same. The shock of the impact killed him."

"I suppose so. But I thought you might like to know about it."

"Thanks, Pete," the young lawyer said, "but the status of the case remains the same as it was. Truman killed him somehow by firing the diamond into him. That's all the law cares about. Isn't that so, Mr. Hazeltine?"

Gillian was looking at the orphanage superintendent.

"Do you know, Mr. Wardell, how much of an autopsy Vollmer performed?"

"According to jumbo, he only probed for the bulleta"and found the diamond stuck in that third rib."

"Didn't he cut into his heart?"

"No, sir. He found the diamond and quit with that."

"That's curious."

"Of course, Mr. Hazeltine, the body had been in the water several days. It must be a sickening job to work on a body that's as far gone as that."

"True."

"Why bother with going further with an autopsy?" Seth Peters impatiently asked. "The diamond killed hima"and they found that."

Gillian was pale. "I want to take a look at that body," he said. His aversion to dead bodies made him feel ill already.

"I don't see what's to be gained," Seth Peters protested.

"You don't have to go."