The Spoilers of the Valley Part 13

"Shut up, man! Do you wish the whole town to hear?"

"What if they do hear? I've nothing to hide;--I'm not like you."

"And you'll be getting a little more of what you have already had, if you don't go easier than you are doing. See here!--I'm busy, but I'm willing to start you off. What's your price to get out of here for good and forget you ever knew me, and to forget me for all time to come?"

"One-half of all you have, and interest to date,--I to stay here as long as I please."

The Mayor looked at Phil as if he were looking at a lunatic, then he smiled and started in to fill up a cheque.

"I owe you five hundred. I've tacked on a thousand more. There! The train leaves at 3:15 P.M. to-morrow. You get out on it. Do you understand?"

"Thank you!--but this place suits me. I like it and I'm going to stay."

"You are,--eh! If you don't get out with to-morrow's train you'll go out the day following, in a box, feet first."

"Yes! Judging from what happened early this afternoon, I daresay you are quite equal to that kind of thing," said Phil quietly. "But I'm going to stay all the same."

"You won't get a job within twenty miles of Vernock. If you do, you won't hold it, for every man in the district will know you for what you are,--an ex-jailbird."

"Who will tell them?"

"I will."

"No, you won't!"

"Won't I? Try it out and I'll show you quick enough."

Phil went over to Brenchfield's desk.

"I suppose you think your tracks are pretty well covered up after five years."

"I have none to cover," retorted Brenchfield. "I don't know you personally; never did know you;--don't want to know you. I do know you by reputation for an escaped jailbird and a would-be blackmailer, who will be back where he belongs before he is much older. Get that?"

"Yes,--I got it," answered Phil, desperate, and almost beaten, when an imp in his mind set him busy.

"I'm going to stay here, Graham, and you're not going to try to prevent me or say a word that would injure my standing. If you do, then G.o.d help you."

Brenchfield laughed up at the ceiling.

"Five years ago," went on Phil, "you wrote a little note in cypher and left it with me when you turned tail and ran away. Maybe you have forgotten about that note. Well,--written things have a habit of turning up."

Brenchfield's bravado oozed away. His hard face grew pale.

"You're lying. You burned that note."

"Did I?"

"If you didn't, it would have been found and would have come out in the evidence."

"Perhaps!"

Phil put his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket, as if to bring out the paper, then he appeared to change his mind, for he desisted and made as if to leave.

Brenchfield jumped up quickly, sprang for the door and stood with his back to it.

"d.a.m.n you! How much do you want?"

"Nothing!"

"Name your price and give me that note."

"It is priceless."

"Good heavens, man!--you need money. You're a pauper. I can make you comfortable. I can get you a position that will make you secure for life."

Phil slowly picked up his own money that he had thrown on the desk and put it in his trouser pocket.

"Much obliged!" 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 doc.u.ment of any kind.

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

"d.a.m.n 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.