Out of the Ashes | Page 3

fact, there is every reason to expect
it--is there not? If all I own is invested in these securities, I would not
desire them to decline, would I? I merely suggest this method," she
continued, with a shrug as if to deprecate its lack of originality,
"because it would be a transaction by no means unusual to you, and
would attract no attention."
He looked at her grimly. "You think so?" Let me hear how you intend
to carry out the rest of the transaction--the delivery of the autographs in
question."
"To begin with, I will place in your hands the plates--all the
photographs."
"How can I be sure?" he demanded.

"You can't, of course; but you will have to accept my assurance that I
am honest. I promise to fulfill my part of the bargain--literally to the
letter. You may verify and find that the series is complete. Your
attorneys, to whom you wrote these, will doubtless tell you that they
personally destroyed these documents, but they doubtless have a record
of the dates of letters received at this time. You can compare; they are
all there; I hold out nothing."
"But if they say they have destroyed the letters--what in the name of--"
"Oh, no; they destroyed your communications perhaps, after 'contents
noted.' But they never had your letters, for the simple reason that they
never received them. Very excellent copies they were--most excellent."
Mr. Marcus Gard was experiencing more sensations during his chat
with Mrs. Marteen than had fallen to his lot for many a long day. His
tremendous power had long made his position so secure that he had met
extraordinary situations with the calm of one who controls them. He
had startled and held others spellbound by his own infinite foresight,
resource and energy. The situation was reversed. He gazed fascinated
in the fine blue eyes of another and more ruthless general.
"My dear madam, do you mean to infer that this coup of yours was
planned and executed a year ago, when I, even I," and he thumped his
deep chest, "had no idea what these letters might come to mean? Do
you mean to tell me that?"
"Yes"--and she smiled at his evident reluctance to believe--"yes,
exactly. You see, I saw what was coming--I knew the trend. I have
friends at court--the Supreme Court, it happens--and I was certain that
the 'little cloud no larger than a man's hand' might very well prove to
contain the whirlwind; so--well, there was just a flip of accident that
makes the present situation possible. But the rest was designed, I regret
to admit--cold-blooded design on my part."
"With this end in view?" He tapped the photographs strewn upon his
desk.

"With this end in view," she confessed.
He was silent a moment, lost in thought; then he turned upon her
suddenly.
"Mind, I haven't acceded to your demands," he shouted.
"Is the interview at an end?" she asked, rising and adjusting the furs
about her throat. "If so, I must tell you the papers are in the hands of
persons who would be very much interested in their contents. If they
don't see me--hearing from me won't do, you understand, for a situation
is conceivable, of course, when I might be coerced into sending a
message or telephoning one--if they don't see me personally, the packet
will be opened--and eventually, after the Texas Purchase is adjusted,
they will find their way into the possession of the District Attorney. I
have taken every possible precaution."
"I don't doubt that in the least, madam--confound it, I don't! Now when
will you put the series, lock, stock and barrel, into my hands?"
"When you've done that little turn for me in the market, Mr. Gard. You
may trust me."
"On the word--of a débutante?" he demanded, with a snap of his square
jaws.
For the first time she flushed, the color mantling to her temples; she
was a very handsome woman.
"On the word of a débutante," she answered, and her voice was steady.
"Well, then"--he slapped the table with his open hand--"if you'll send
me, to the office, what you want to invest, I'll give orders that I will
personally direct that account."
"Thank you so much," she murmured, rising.
"Don't go!" he exclaimed, his request a command. "I want to talk with
you. Don't you know you're the first person, man or woman, who has

held me up--me, Marcus Gard! I don't see how you had the nerve. I
don't see how you had the idea." He changed his bullying tone suddenly.
"I wish--I wish you'd talk to me. I'm as curious as any woman."
Mrs. Martin Marteen moved toward the door.
"I'm selling you your autographs--not my autobiography. I'm so glad to
have seen you. Good afternoon, Mr. Gard."