ept 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