these years that
took the courage out of me at first. I wasn't quite right in my head for
a while. I'd have killed him gladly and gotten away with it perhaps--but
I'm glad now that things turned out the way they did. I've got no blood
on my hands--that's one thing--whatever I signed. I've been thinking a
good deal since I've been away. If I signed that fake confession Hawk
Kennedy signed it too. He won't dare to produce it except as a last
resort in desperation, to drag me down with him if he fails. We can
string him along for a while before he does that and if he falls for
your game we may be able to get the paper away from him. You've thought
of something, Nichols?" he asked.

"Yes, of several things," said Peter slowly. "I'm going to try diplomacy
first. If that doesn't work, then something else more drastic."

McGuire rose at last and took up his hat.

"I don't know how to thank you for what you've done, Nichols," he said
awkwardly. "Of course if--if money will repay you for this sort of
service, you can count on my doing what you think is right."

Peter rose and walked to the window, looking out.

"I was coming to that, Mr. McGuire," he said gravely.

McGuire paused and laid his hat down again.

"Before you went away," Peter went on, turning slowly toward his
employer, "you told me that you had never made any effort to discover
the whereabouts of any of the relatives of Ben Cameron. But I inferred
from what you said that if you _did_ find them, you'd be willing to do
your duty. That's true, isn't it?"

McGuire examined him soberly but agreed.

"Yes, that's true. But why do you bring this question up now?"

"I'll explain in a moment. Mr. McGuire, you are said to be a very rich
man, how rich I don't know, but I think you'll be willing to admit to
me, knowing what I do of your history, that without the 'Tarantula' mine
and the large sum it brought you you would never have succeeded in
getting to your present position in the world of finance."

"I'll admit that. But I don't see----"

"You will in a minute, sir----"

"Go on."

"If I have been correctly informed, you sold out your copper holdings in
Madre Gulch for something like half a million dollars----" Peter paused
for McGuire's comment. He made none. But he had sunk into his chair
again and was listening intently.

"The interest on half a million dollars, even at six per cent, if
compounded, would in fifteen years amount with the principal to a
c