Constance Dunlap Part 46

He expected her to make some move to extricate herself that would display her hand and betray all. It was clever and a less clever person than Constance would have fallen before the onslaught.

Constance was thinking rapidly, as he told her where and how the new pursuers were active. Here, she felt, was the crisis, her opportunity.

Scarcely had Drummond gone, than she, too, was hurrying down the street on her way to see Mackenzie's pursuers face to face.

She found Wickham registered at the Prince Henry, a new hotel and sent up her card. A few moments later he received her, with considerable restraint as if he knew about her and had not expected so soon to have to show his own hand.

"I understand," she began quickly, "that you have come to New York because Mr. Drummond claims to be able to clear up the Graeme Mackenzie case."

"Yes?" he replied quizzically.

"Perhaps," she continued, coming nearer to the point of her self-imposed mission, "perhaps there may be some other way to settle this case than through Mr. Drummond."

"We might hold you," he shot out quickly.

"No," she replied, "you have nothing on me. And as for Mr. Mackenzie, I understand, you don't even know where he is--whether he is in New York, London, Paris, or Berlin, or whether he may not go from one city to another at any moment you take open action."

Wickham bit his lip. He knew she was right. Even yet the case hung on the most slender threads.

"I have been wondering," she continued, "if there is not some way in which this thing can be compromised."

"Never," exclaimed Wickham positively. "He must return the whole sum, with interest to date. Then and only then can we consider his plea for clemency."

"You would consider it?" she asked keenly.

"Of course. We should have to consider it. Voluntary surrender and reparation would be something like turning state's witness--against himself."

Constance said nothing.

"Can you do it?" he asked, watching craftily to see whether she might not drop a hint that might prove valuable.

"I know those who might try," she answered, catching the look.

Wickham changed.

"What if we should get him without your aid!" he bl.u.s.tered.

"Try," she shrugged.

Arguments and threats were of no avail with her. She would say nothing more definite. She was obdurate.

"You must leave it all to me," she repeated. "I would not betray him.

You cannot prove anything on ME."

"Bring the stuff up here yourself, then," he insinuated.

"But I don't trust you, either," she replied frankly.

The two faced each other. Constance knew in her heart that it was going to be a battle royal with this man, that now she had taken a step even so far in the open it was every one for himself and the devil take the hindmost.

"I can't help it," he concluded. "Those are the terms. It is as far as I can trust a--a thief."

"But I will keep my word," she said quietly. "When you prove to me that you are absolutely on the level, that Mackenzie can make rest.i.tution in full with interest, and in return be left as free a man as he is at this moment--why,--I can have him give up."

"Mrs. Dunlap," said Wickham with an air of finality, "I will make one concession. I will adopt any method of rest.i.tution he may prefer. But it must be by direct dealing between Mackenzie and myself, with Drummond present as well as Mr. Taylor, president of the Trust Company, who is now also in New York. That is my ultimatum. Good-afternoon."

Constance left the room with flushed face and eyes that glinted with determination. Over and over she thought out methods to accomplish what she had planned. When they complied with all the conditions that would safeguard Mackenzie, she had determined to act. But Graeme must be master of the situation.

Cautiously she went through her usual elaborate precautions to shake off any shadows that might be following her, and an hour later found her with Mackenzie.

"What has happened!" he asked eagerly, surprised at her early visit.

Briefly she ran over the events of the afternoon. "Would you be willing," she asked, "to go to District Attorney Wickham, hand over the half million with, say, twelve thousand dollars interest, in return for freedom?"

Graeme looked at Constance a moment doubtfully.

"I would not do that," he measured slowly. "How do I know what they will do, the moment they get me in their power? No. Almost, I would say that I would not go there under any guarantee they might give. I do not trust them. The indictment must be dismissed first."

"But they won't do that. The ultimatum was personal rest.i.tution."

Constance was faced by an apparently insurmountable dilemma. She saw and agreed with the reasonableness of Graeme's position. But there was the opposition and obstinacy of Wickham, the bitterness and unscrupulousness of Drummond. Here was a tremendous problem. How was she to meet it?

For perhaps half an hour they sat in silence. One plan after another she rejected.

Suddenly an idea occurred to her. Somewhere, in a bank, she had seen a method which might meet the difficulty.

"To-morrow--I will arrange it--to suit both of you," she cried confidently.

"How?" he asked.

"Trust it all to me," she appealed.

"All," replied Graeme, rising and standing before her. "All. I will do anything you say."

He was about to take her hand, but she rose. "No, Graeme. Not now.

There is work--the crisis. No, I must go. Trust me."

It was not until noon of the next day that he saw Constance again.

There was an air of suppressed excitement about her as she entered the apartment and placed on a table before him a small oblong box of black enameled metal, beneath which was a roll of paper. Above was another somewhat similar box with another roll of paper.

Constance attached the instrument to the telephone, an enigmatical conversation followed, and she hung up the receiver.

A few minutes later, she took the stylus that was in the lower box.

Hastily across the blank paper she wrote the words, "We are ready."

Mackenzie was too fascinated to ask questions. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something in the upper box move, as if of itself. It was a similar, self-inking stylus.

"Watch!" exclaimed Constance.