he remarked, "but I have no intention of remaining a
pauper for long. I wouldn't insult my conscience by taking any
position you could find for me. Do you mind letting me out?"

For answer, Brenchfield was on him like a wild-cat. Phil wriggled, but
the Mayor got behind him, with an arm pressing his throat and a hand
over his mouth. With a quick movement and without the slightest noise
he bore Phil backward full length on the thickly carpeted floor. He
moved his grip and, half strangling him with one hand as he knelt
heavily on Phil's chest, he went through Phil's inside pocket.

The pocket was empty.

Phil could not cry out, and would not have done so had he been able.

Slowly Brenchfield searched every pocket in turn. He failed to find a
document of any kind.

He released him at last, rose and brushed the dust from his trousers,
breathing heavily.

"Damn you!--I knew you lied."

Phil got up also.

"Guess you take me for a fool such as I used to be," he panted. "I
don't carry my valuables with me now when I visit your kind. I have
more sense. Now, do you mind letting me out?"

Brenchfield made as if he were going to strike Phil in his anger.

"If I thought you had that paper, I'd kill you for it."

"And, if you thought I hadn't, you'd hound the life out of me.
Well,--do your darnedest."

"The money offer still holds good," said Brenchfield in a more
conciliatory tone. "Keep your mouth shut and I'll do the same. Let me
know when you are ready to name your price for that paper."

"When I need the money, I'll let you know," replied the other.

Brenchfield opened the door, and smiling an urbane mayoral "Good
afternoon," that all in the main office could hear, he ushered Phil
out.

CHAPTER VI

A Bird to Pluck

As he walked down Main Street toward the Kenora Hotel, where it was
his intention to have a bite to eat, Phil congratulated himself
inwardly, on the one side, on the more than ordinary success of his
gigantic bluff--for he knew that so long as he was able to hold this
bogey of a confession as a club over the head of Brenchfield, he was
safe from open interference:--on the other side, he cursed his arrant
stupidity and childlike simplicity in destroying a document which,
even if he never used it, proved beyond the shadow of a doubt his
innocence of the crime for which he had been imprisoned.

He tried hard to recollect exactly what had happened that fatal
morning after Brenchfield had le