“‘Beast!’ she hissed, ‘so you are a blackmailer!’

“‘A black beetle if you like,’ I responded, ’but I assure you, Mrs. Bater, I am letting you off cheap.  I have only to call for a policeman and your reputation would be gone at once.  Besides, I know other things about you.’

“‘What other things?’ she stuttered.

“‘Well, madam!’ I replied, ’some things are rather delicate—­er—­for single men like me to mention, but I do know that—­er—­a lady—­very like—­remarkably like—­you, has in her pocket at this moment a rattle which she bought and paid for in Oakland’s late last night.  And as, madam, Mr. Bater has been dead over two years—­let me see—­yes, two years yesterday—­one can—!’

“‘Stay! that will do,’ she whispered; ’come to my house and I will give you the thousand dollars.  You must pretend you are my cousin.’

“‘I will pretend anything, Mrs. Bater,’ I murmured, helping her into a taxi, ‘anything so long as I can be with you.’”

“You got the money?” Hamar queried.

“Yes,” Kelson said with a smile, “I got the money—­in fact, everything I asked for.”

There was silence for some minutes, and then Hamar said, “What next?”

“What next!” Kelson said, “why I thought I had done a very good day’s work and was on my way back here to take a much needed rest, when I’m dashed if the Unknown hadn’t another adventure in store for me.  Coming out of a garden in Gough Street, within sight of Goad’s house, was a lady, young and very plain, but rigged out in one of those latest fashion costumes—­a very tight, short skirt, and huge hat with high plume in it.  By the bye, I can’t think why this costume, which is so admirably suited to pretty girls—­because it attracts attention to them—­should be almost exclusively adopted by the ugly ones.  But to continue.  I knew immediately that she was Ella Barlow, the much-pampered and only daughter of J.B.  Barlow, the vinegar magnate; that she was in love, or imagined herself in love with Herbert Delmas, the manager of the Columbian Bank—­a young, good-looking fellow, whom she had been trying to set against his fiancee, Dora Roberts.  Dora is only nineteen, very pretty and a trifle giddy—­nothing more.  But this failing of hers—­if you can call it a failing, was just the very weapon Ella Barlow wanted.  She worked on it at once, and by sending Delmas a series of anonymous letters made him mad with jealousy.  This resulted in a breach between Delmas and Dora, and Ella Barlow, much elated, at once tried to step into her shoes.  She has been going out a good deal with Delmas, who is in reality still very much in love with Dora, and consequently exceedingly miserable.  This morning Ella, anxious to show off a magnificent set of diamonds, given her by her father, telephoned to Delmas to take her to the Baldwyn Theatre, where she has engaged a box for this evening—­fondly hoping that the diamonds will bring him up to the scratch, and that he will propose to her.  When I saw her she was on her way to a notorious quack doctor and beauty specialist in Californian Street.  She suffers from some nasty skin disease, and is in mortal terror lest Delmas should get to know of it, and also of the fact that all her teeth are false, and that two of her toes are badly deformed.”