If the news was a surprise Gregory gave no evidence of it, except to

comment: "You're a capable person, aren't you? I'll bet you could tune a piano if

you were put to it."

He carried the situation well, the reporter had to admit; the only

evidence he gave of strain was that the hands with which he lighted a

cigarette were unsteady. He surveyed the obscure hotel at which the cab

stopped with a sneering smile, and settled his collar as he looked it

over.

"Not advertising to the world that you're in town, I see."

"We'll do that, just as soon as we're ready. Don't worry."

The laugh he gave at that struck unpleasantly on Bassett's ears. But

inside the building he lost some of his jauntiness. "Queer place to find

Judson Clark," he said once.

And again: "You'd better watch him when I go in. He may bite me."

To which Bassett grimly returned: "He's probably rather particular what

he bites."

He was uneasily conscious that Gregory, while nervous and tense, was

carrying the situation with a certain assurance. If he was acting it was

very good acting. And that opinion was strengthened when he threw open

the door and Gregory advanced into the room.

"Well, Clark," he said, coolly. "I guess you didn't expect to see me,

did you?"

He made no offer to shake hands as Dick turned from the window, nor

did Dick make any overtures. But there was no enmity at first in either

face; Gregory was easy and assured, Dick grave, and, Bassett thought,

slightly impatient. From that night in his apartment the reporter had

realized that he was constantly fighting a sort of passive resistance in

Dick, a determination not at any cost to involve Beverly. Behind that,

too, he felt that still another battle was going on, one at which he

could only guess, but which made Dick somber at times and grimly quiet

always.

"I meant to look you up," was his reply to Gregory's nonchalant

greeting.

"Well, your friend here did that for you," Gregory said, and smiled

across at Bassett. "He has his own methods, and I'll say they're

effectual."

He took off his overcoat and flung it on the bed, and threw a swift,

appraising glance at Dick. It was on Dick that he was banking, not on

Bassett. He hated and feared Bassett. He hated Dick, but he was not

afraid of him. He lighted a cigarette and faced Dick with a malicious

smile.




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