“Yes. Settle the way you’ll divide. When I show up, give me the figures. If it’s on the level, we’ll make a legal settlement the next day. You and I and the lawyer. If you don’t come through, I’ll cook you.”
Carma rose defiantly. She strode toward the door of the room. Graham followed her. At the front door, he put a short, abrupt question:
“Who told you I was here in Southwark?” demanded Graham. “Who looked you up in New York?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” returned the woman. “You’ve got a noodle. Use it. The more you think, the more you’ll know it’s pay up. It won’t do you any good to argue with the man who brought me here. He has you tied up - and he knows everything. It’s curtains, big boy.”
Carma turned and opened the door. As she walked defiantly from the porch, Graham Wellerton slammed the door. He paced back and forth, fuming. Malice dominated his thoughts. All his past resentment toward the world surged violently through his brain.
As he pondered over Carma’s words, Graham became enraged. He noted that it was not quite eleven o’clock. Seizing his hat and coat, he stormed from the front door, rounded the bank building and strode in the direction of Ralph Delkin’s home.
In his fury, Graham, did not notice a coupe parked near his house. The car rolled silently along the street after Graham had disappeared from view. When the young man neared Delkin’s home, the car was on that street, its lights extinguished. Harry Vincent was watching from a distance.
Lights were showing in Delkin’s living-room windows. Graham rapped at the door. Eunice opened it. Staring beyond the girl, Graham, saw Ralph Delkin.
Without a word to Eunice, the young man strode forward to encounter the manufacturer. Delkin arose from his chair and stood in surprise as he faced the intruder.
“What is the matter, Graham?” he questioned.
“The matter!” Graham looked at Delkin, then at Eunice, who had entered the room. “I’ve been double- crossed - that’s all. Misplaced confidence.”
“What has happened?”
There was a peevishness in Delkin’s tone. The man seemed worried and Graham took it as a sign of guilt. In cold, scoffing terms, he broke loose with an outpour of indignation.
“My wife is in town,” he asserted. “She has come here to demand money. She told me how she discovered where I was. Someone in Southwark sent for her.”
“Someone in Southwark!” echoed Delkin feebly.
“Someone who has learned about my past,” declared Graham. “Someone who has seen a way to make me pay out millions. It’s blackmail, of the meanest kind.”
“This is most unfortunate,” observed Delkin.
“For me, yes,” sneered Graham. “But not for the man who is to profit by his treachery. Someone has squealed - and there’s only one man in Southwark who knows the facts about me - only one to whom I have revealed my past life.”
“You are accusing me?” queried Delkin harshly.
“No,” scoffed Graham. “You are accusing yourself. I was right when I was crooked. I trusted no one then. I refused your friendship because I suspected everyone who ever pretended to be my friend. You’re no worse than a lot of others, Delkin, but you’re no better. Carma put me wise without realizing it. You’re the one who framed this game!”
“Get out of my house!” ordered Delkin indignantly. “Get out, before I call the police!”
“You won’t call anyone,” retorted Graham. “You’re playing too big a game -“
“Graham!” It was Eunice who interrupted. “You know well that my father would not betray you. You must not talk this way!”
Graham paid no attention to the girl’s words. Face to face with Ralph Delkin, he poured out his contempt of the man whom he had branded as a traitor.
“I told you to destroy those notes,” declared Graham. “You refused. Why? I’ll tell you. Because they were made out to my uncle; because they bore dates that will stand as proof of the robbery I committed. Where are the notes now?”
“At the factory,” asserted Delkin.
“I want them,” said Graham. “At once.”
“You will not get them by demand,” returned Delkin. “Wait until you have come to your senses. This is outrageous -“
“So you’re keeping them, eh?” jeered Graham. “Well - go ahead. They don’t matter. Carma is your trump card. She’s here - to make me pay. I know your financial situation, Delkin. I’ve been ready to offer you aid should you request it.
“Instead of coming to me fairly, you turned crook yourself. Thought you could lie under cover and pick up a lot of easy cash. Didn’t trust me, because I told you that I’d been a crook. Well, the damage is done. I hope you’re satisfied. I warn you, though, that I’m going to fight this game to the end.”
TURNING, Graham thrust himself past Eunice and reached the door. He swung to deliver a last tirade before departing. His face bore the sordid venom that had characterized it during his career of crime. The words that spat from Graham’s lips were filled with malice.
“I warned you when you first offered me your friendship,” Graham reminded. “I warned you that you would be sorry - both of you. I softened; but I’m toughened again. I’m warning you now - to look out!
“You’ll hear from me, Ralph Delkin - and you’ll never forget the revenge that will be mine. You’ve joined in a blackmail plot, and if I don’t come through, you’ll tell the world that I was mixed in crime.”
“You won’t have to tell the world” - Graham’s tone was bitter - “because I’ll attend to that myself. You’ll learn just how tough I can be. When I strike, you will feel it.”
As Graham glowered, Eunice Delkin stepped forward. She advanced straight to the young man and looked steadily into his eyes. Graham stared coldly. He expected to see antagonism in Eunice’s glance; instead, he observed nothing more than sorrowful disapproval.
“Graham,” said Eunice quietly, “you cannot mean these things that you have said. You know that there is no revenge in your heart. You know that father and I are your friends.”
Graham Wellerton could not face this mild criticism. His tight fists loosened, his heart seemed to sink. Bitterness began to fade. Graham knew that the girl was right. Yet the last vestiges of resentment came in a final surge, and with that emotion, Graham Wellerton turned on his heel and stalked out into the night.
The tense scene was at an end. Graham Wellerton had capitulated, although he had managed not to show it. Rebuked at heart, he turned his footsteps homeward, fighting hard to balance his regard for Eunice with his resentment toward Ralph Delkin. In that effort, Graham was failing. Right feeling was triumphing over malice, despite the ordeal which Graham had undergone.
RALPH DELKIN, standing in his living room, was pale and troubled when Eunice approached her father; the man spoke in a tone of worriment.
“Graham Wellerton intends to do us harm,” asserted Delkin. “I am worried, Eunice - worried -“
“There is nothing to worry about, father,” interposed the girl quietly. “Graham will come to his senses. Reason will tell him that you are his real friend - that you would not betray him.”
“I must have advice,” declared Delkin. “If I should call Harwin Dowser now
-“
“Never!” exclaimed Eunice in alarm.
“Dowser is Graham’s attorney,” admitted Delkin. “Nevertheless, I know him well. His services can be mine for the asking.”
“It is not that, father,” decided Eunice firmly. “Remember our promise to Graham; that we would tell no one of his past. Graham has accused you of betraying him - surely, you would not do so now, even though you might speak in confidence to a lawyer.”
Ralph Delkin nodded thoughtfully. He slumped into a chair. His gaze seemed far away. Eunice wondered what was passing in her father’s mind.
