nd's, voice was shaky.

"No. We'll take it and get out," answered Hayden.

"I want to see you do it," cried Cargan. "If you think I've come up here
on a pleasure trip, I got a chart and a pointer all ready for your next
lesson. And let me put you wise--this nobby little idea of yours about
Baldpate Inn is the worst ever. The place is as full of people as if the
regular summer rates was being charged."

"The devil it is!" cried Hayden. His voice betrayed a startled
annoyance.

"It hasn't worried me none," went on the mayor. "They can't touch me. I
own the prosecutor, and you know it. But it ain't going to do you any
good on the avenue if you're seen here with me. Is it, Mr. Hayden?"

"The more reason," replied Hayden, "for getting the money and leaving at
once. I'm not afraid of you, Cargan. I'm armed."

"I ain't," sneered the mayor. "But no exquisite from your set with his
little air-gun ever scared me. You try to get away from here with that
bundle and you'll find yourself all tangled up in the worst scrap that
ever happened."

"Where's the money, Joe?" asked Hayden.

"You won't wait--" Bland begged.

"Wait to get my own money--I guess not. Show me where it is."

"Remember," put in Cargan, "that money's mine. And don't have any pipe
dreams about the law--the law ain't called into things of this sort as a
rule. I guess you'd be the last to call it. You'll never get away from
here with my money."

Mr. Magee opened the card-room door farther, and saw the figure of the
stranger Hayden confronting the mayor. Mr. Cargan's title of exquisite
best described him. The newcomer was tall, fair, fastidious in dress and
manner. A revolver gleamed in his hand.

"Joe," he said firmly, "take me to that money at once."

"It's out here," replied Bland. He and Hayden disappeared through the
dining-room door into the darkness. Cargan and Max followed close
behind.

Hot with excitement, Mr. Magee slipped from his place of concealment. A
battle fit for the gods was in the air. He must be in the midst of
it--perhaps again in a three-cornered fight it would be the third party
that would emerge victorious.

In the darkness of the dining-room he bumped into a limp clinging
figure. It proved to be the Hermit of Baldpate Mountain.

"I got to talk to you, Mr. Magee," he whispered in a frightened tremolo.
"I got to have a word with you this minute."

"Not now," cried Magee, pushing him aside. "Later."

The hermit wildly seized