CHAPTER XXIII.

PETER SHOWS HIS HAND.

We must now return for a space to Miss Allan, whom, I am afraid, we have greatly neglected. Lettie had returned to her aunt’s immediately after Fanny’s marriage. But there was a change in the girl that Coleman, with all his penetration, could not understand. He was perplexed and somewhat frightened at her demeanor. She did not try to avoid him. On the contrary, she managed to meet him very often. But there was no resumption of their old intimacy, and Peter could not understand it.

“She has certainly got some scheme in view, and I’d give my head to know what it is,” he thought.

But the more he puzzled over it, the more complex it became, and he would gladly have washed his hands of it all, if it had not been for the fear that the girl knew too much, and his anxiety to find out in whose behalf she was likely to use her power.

“If I only knew on which side she is retained,” he thought, “or what possible interest she can have in the business? Is it friendship for Fanny or Elwell?”

He doubted it. She was outspoken in her dislike for Elwell, and fully understood that the aversion was mutual. He had asked her once if she expected to visit them on their return, and she had coldly inquired in turn, if he thought it possible that she would receive an invitation?

At last Peter, in his desperation, decided to throw himself on the girl’s mercy, and find out at any rate if she was likely to be against him. But first, he thought, he would try a little ruse. So he procured a copy of the circular of death losses of that insurance company, and managed to leave it where he knew Lettie would see it. Then he waited. When he looked for it again the paper was gone. This decided him. He felt sure Lettie must know more than he cared to have her know. He left the room, and in a few moments returned quietly. Lettie was standing by the window, but the paper had not been returned.

“Lettie,” he said, “I left a paper here a few moments ago. What did you do with it?”

“Why should I touch any of your papers?” she demanded coldly.

“The Lord knows why you do,” replied Peter piously, “and I wish I did. This was the same paper you gave me to hand to Elwell--if I dared.”

He waited. The girl stood motionless by the window.

“Well, did you dare?” she asked indifferently.

“That does not matter. I left it here a few moments ago, and now it is gone.”

Lettie turned and faced him now.

“I have no use for the paper,” she said. “Where did you leave it?”

“There on the table.”

She slowly crossed the room to the table. There was nothing there.

“You must be mistaken,” she said, “unless this is it;” and she stooped and apparently picked up the little piece of greenish paper from the floor.

Coleman took the paper, greatly perplexed.

“Devil take her!” he said, under his breath; “she is more than a match for me.” Then he said aloud: “How did you know Mr. Elwell was interested in anything in this circular?”

“I did not know,” she replied coolly, “until you told me.”

“_I_ told you?” ejaculated Peter in his astonishment.

“Yes, you,” replied Lettie. “I knew nothing about the paper more than that you had dropped it, and I simply took that way of returning it to you. Then, when you stormed around so, I knew I had hit some weak spot; but it was entirely by accident.”

Peter, who prided himself on his astuteness, and considered himself a match for most men in cleverness, had been overreached by a girl. It was bitter. And now, no doubt, she had a copy of that circular, or the means of obtaining one. And his clever ruse had only served to arm her against himself.

“Lettie,” he said desperately, “let us come to an understanding. You have always been open and square with me. Now, see. I had a big stake to play for, and it made me nervous. I see now that I have made a mistake, and I would like to know how the game stands. Now, are you a friend of Elwell’s?”

“I? Not at all,” replied Lettie quickly.

“Are you a friend of his wife’s, then?”

There was a slight pause, and then she replied, calmly:

“No; nor of his wife’s--in the way you mean.” Then she added: “Don’t be afraid of me. I will not prevent your getting money from him--if you can.”

“But you have some interest,” persisted Coleman. “Now, what is it?”

Lettie considered for a moment.

“No,” she said at last; “I do not think I have any interest in the matter; or, if I have, it can not concern you any. I will not interfere between you. But I should not like to have you hurt her father; and some day I would like to go there again for a day or so.”

She left the room without saying anything more, and apparently without noticing him. But Peter was satisfied. He knew that she was truthful, and knew, too, that if she was against him, she would not hesitate to tell him so. Whatever her interest in the matter was, it was not against him. And in his satisfaction he decided that she should have a chance to visit Fanny again, if he could bring it about.

With his feelings a great deal easier, he went to his office and wrote to Mr. James Elwell, and as soon as he could close up his affairs, followed the letter in person.

As Mr. Coleman expected, Elwell found that he was at liberty that evening; but it was without any appearance of cordiality or friendship that he went to the hotel after supper to meet the lawyer.

Elwell was determined that he would not give in an inch to his whilom friend, and he was equally determined that Coleman should not locate in town if he could prevent it.

“It is a blackmailing scheme,” he thought bitterly; “and if I don’t choke him off now, he will follow me all my life. Better fight it out now, and be done with it. At the worst, he can only say that I am a divorced man, and that cannot injure me now.”

On entering the hotel, he found Coleman in the bar and billiard room, watching with great interest a game that was being played.

“We cannot talk here,” Elwell said gruffly, disregarding his friend’s outstretched hand. “Come to the office with me.”

Peter glanced at him quickly.

“No,” he said; “we will go to my room. It is nearer--and safer,” he added, under his breath.

Elwell made no answer, but followed him upstairs to his room.

“Now, what is it?” he demanded, throwing himself into a chair.

Coleman seated himself, with the table between them.

“You do not seem very glad to see me,” he said lightly. “But that is probably because you do not understand the case. I have looked over the town, and talked with some of your best citizens, and I find that, with your assistance, I can get a brilliant opening here, and I have concluded to stay. Shall I ring for something?” he said, rising and moving over to the bell.

“No,” replied Elwell shortly. “I am not going to stay a moment.”

“I think you will stay long enough for that,” said Peter quietly.

And he rang for some whisky and cigars.

Elwell sat silent until they had been placed on the table; then he said, declining the proffered glass with a motion of his hand:

“So you have decided to stay?”

Coleman nodded, and drank his liquor with evident relish.

“With or without my assistance, I suppose?” Elwell inquired.

“Oh, no;” replied Peter smiling. “With your assistance, of course.

“You cannot have it!”

Peter looked at him, but made no reply.

“You cannot have it,” repeated Elwell sternly. “On the contrary, I will use my influence openly against you.”

Peter smiled, and said softly:

“See, now, how foolish some men are! Now, I have been around here to-day, and I find that you are very popular. You only need some clever fellow like me to pull the wires for you, and you can have anything you want. And all I ask in return is the business that you have to give to some one, and your assistance in procuring me the business of others. That can cost you nothing, and in return I can help you a great deal.”

“I do not want your help,” replied Elwell. “And I will just help you to the extent of paying your fare out of town--provided you go at once.”

And he arose from his chair, as if to leave the room.

“Sit still,” said Coleman quietly. “I do not think you understand. Now, it is better that we should be friends. Not so much on my account as on yours. You can help me--true; but you can not hurt me. And if I choose I can say----”

“You can say that I am a divorced man,” broke in Elwell scornfully. “And in return I can--and will--have you arrested for attempting blackmail.”

“You are altogether wrong,” replied Peter coolly. “When you interrupted me I was about to tell you that I could say that you were _not_ divorced.”

Elwell stared at him incredulously.

Coleman continued calmly:

“You can take time and investigate this, and you will see that I am right. The party whom I trusted to procure your divorce sent me a forged document. I did not find it out until after you were married,” he continued mendaciously. “So I could not tell you before. But you have never been divorced from your first wife.”

Elwell poured himself out a glass of whisky, and drank it. His hand trembled as he raised the glass, and his lips were bloodless.

“How do I know that you are not lying now?” he demanded huskily.

“You will have a chance to investigate the matter when you wish,” replied Coleman quietly.

Elwell helped himself to another glass of liquor.

“You are trying to frighten me,” he cried; “but you cannot do it. Even if what you say is true, I have done no wrong, for you yourself assured me that I was legally divorced.”

“I have nothing more to say about it,” answered Coleman in the same even tones. “But there is another matter I wanted to speak to you about, and then I am done.” And he took from his pocketbook the circular of the Widows’ and Orphans’ Mutual Benefit Tontine Life Insurance Company, and laid it on the table. “You were insured in this company,” he said, speaking slowly and almost maliciously, “and you allowed them to pay the amount of your insurance to your supposed widow. And by doing so you became a party to a conspiracy to defraud, and laid yourself open to serve a term in State’s prison if it is ever found out;” and he laid great stress on the last few words.

“Curse you!” cried Elwell bitterly. “I should have known better than to put myself in your power!”

Coleman pretended to be busy lighting a cigar, and made no answer.

“Well, what do you want?” demanded Elwell savagely.

“Nothing--nothing at all,” replied Peter, smoking placidly.

Elwell stared at him.

“I have changed my mind in the last few moments,” said the lawyer in answer to his friend’s stare. “And I have concluded _not_ to locate here after all. You have rejected the offer I made you, and I think I will locate elsewhere. That is all it is necessary for me to say, so I need not detain you longer.”

And he arose from his chair as if the interview was at an end.

“What do you intend to do?” demanded Elwell, with a savage light in his eyes.

“Nothing at present,” replied the lawyer. “I have no intention of saying anything to hurt you. I will simply drop you, as you intended to drop me. Some day you will need me, and then you will regret that you did not make a friend of me when you could.”

Elwell buried his face in his hands and tried to think.

“I must have time,” he cried; “I cannot think now.”

“You can have all the time you want,” replied the lawyer coolly. “But don’t you think you had better go home to your wife?” with a slight emphasis on the last word.

Elwell looked up. His face was haggard and his eyes bloodshot.

“Come,” he said hoarsely; “tell me what you want.”

“Nothing,” repeated the lawyer steadily. “I would not go into practice here now, unless it was at your earnest solicitation.”

“Very well; I wish it,” said the other briefly.

“And if I did, I should expect all the business of your firm, and your assistance to obtain business from others.”

“You shall have it,” said Elwell as briefly as before.

“Well, that is all,” continued Peter, “unless it is a little money, say five hundred or a thousand, just to carry me over for a while.”

The other nodded.

“And what do I get in return for all this?” he demanded.

“You get my friendship,” replied Peter gayly, “and my assistance. Why, man,” he cried, slapping his companion jovially on the shoulder, “with my help we will have you in Congress in less than two years, and then you can help me to something fat;” and he laughed pleasantly.

Elwell made no answer, but started to leave the room.

“It is all settled now, is it?” he asked, as he opened the door.

“All settled? Of course it is,” cried Peter pleasantly. “Come and drink success to my future practice.”

Elwell looked at him for a moment, and then took the glass he held out to him, and drained it. Then without a word he left the room.

“Faith, you’re an ugly customer,” said Peter, with a grimace, when he was alone. “It was an even thing whether I got my throat cut or won the game. But I won it,” he went on, with a sigh of relief. “And now, Peter, my boy, we’ll make a night of it.”