."

Some one else was coming. All on the porch turned and waited to see who it
was. Out of the shadows came a hang-dog looking sort of fellow.

"Is Mr. Bascomb here?" asked the newcomer.

"I am Mr. Bascomb," spoke the president.

"Here's a note for you," said the man, handing over an envelope.

Tom stepped inside, got a lantern and lighted it, placing it upon the porch
table. With the aid of this illumination Mr. Bascomb read the brief note
directed to him.

"It's from Evarts," said the president, looking up with a quiet laugh.
"He commands me to come to him at once, in his cell, and to arrange some
way of getting out. My man," turning to the messenger, "are you going back
to Evarts?"

"Yes," nodded the messenger, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"Go back to Evarts, then, and tell him that he'll have to threaten some one
else this time. Tell him that I am through with him."

"Huh!" growled the hang-dog messenger. "I believe Evarts said that, if old
Bascomb wasn't quick, he'd make trouble for some one."

"Tell Evarts," said Mr. Prenter, "that he can't make trouble for any one
but himself, and that he had better save his breath for the next time he
needs it."

"Evarts will be awful mad, if I go back to him with any talk like that,"
insinuated the messenger meaningly.

"See here, fellow," interjected. Tom Reade, stepping forward quickly, "I'm
rather tired and out of condition to-night, but if you don't leave here as
fast as you can go, I'll kick you every step of the way for the first
half-mile back to Blixton! Do you think you understand me?"

"I---I reckon I do," admitted the fellow.

"Then start before you tempt my right foot! I'll give you five seconds
to get off."

There could be no mistaking that order. The messenger started off, nor
did he glance backward as long as he was in sight.

"You see how easily a chap like Evarts can be disposed of," smiled Mr.
Prenter.

"He'll send back again for another try, within an hour," prophesied Mr.
Bascomb, wearily.

"If he does," laughed Dick Prescott, shortly, "his second appeal won't
come by the same messenger."

"Then you were near us, Mr. Prenter, when Evarts and the negro charged us?"
Tom inquired.

"I was," smiled the treasurer. "That convicts me of cowardice, doesn't it,
in not having come to your aid at the moment of attack? I wasn't quite as
big a coward as I would seem, though. The truth is, I was behind you. Had
I j