"They will give her up for
ten thousand dollars--to-night." He glanced at the clock on the wall,
ticking its minutes, hurrying to six o'clock.

The dark eyes had followed the glance; they came back to the man's
face--"You pay that--ten thousand dollar?" said Achilles.

"I shall be damned first!" said the man with slow emphasis. "But we
shall find them--" His square, red jaw held the words, "and _they_ shall
pay--God! They shall pay!" The room rang to the word. It was a small
bare room--only a table and two chairs, the clock on the wall and a
desk across the room. "Sit down," said Philip Harris. He motioned to the
chair before him.

But Achilles did not take it, he rested a hand on the back, looking down
at him. "I glad--you not pay," he said.

The other lifted his eyebrows. "I shall pay the man that finds her--the
man that brings her back! You understand that?" His bright, little
glance had keen scorn.

But the face opposite him did not change. "I find her," said Achilles
again.

"Then you get the ten thousand," said the man. He shifted a little in
his chair. They were all alike--these foreigners--money was what they
wanted--and plenty of it. The sneer on his face deepened abruptly.

Achilles's glance was on the clock. "It makes bad--to pay that money,"
he said. "When you pay--more child stole--to-morrow, more child
stole--more money--" His dark hand lifted itself out over the houses of
the great city--and all the sleepy children making ready for bed.

The other nodded. His round, soft paunch pressed against the table and
his quick eyes were on Achilles's face. His great finger leaped out and
shook itself and lay on the table. "I--will--not--give--one cent!" he
said hoarsely.

"You be good man," said Achilles solemnly.

"I will not be bullied by them--and I will not be a fool!" He lifted
his eyes to the clock--and a look passed in his face--a little whirring
chime and the clock was still.

In the silence, the telephone rang sharply. His hand leaped out--and
waited--and his eye sought Achilles--and gathered itself, and he lifted
the dark, burring Thing to his ear.

XII

THE TELEPHONE SPEAKS

Slowly the look on his face grew to something hard and round and bright.
His lips tightened--"is that all?--Good-bye!" His voice sounded in the
tube and was gone, and he hung up the receiver. "They make it twenty
thousand--for one hour," he said drily.

Achilles bent forward, his face on fire, his finger po