"But the bond matter may be settled later," he went on. "So far as I am concerned it is settled now. For our--ah--foolish young friend, Kent, however, I feel a certain sense of--shall we say pity?--and am inclined to make certain confessions. Silly sentimentalism on my part, doubtless--but pity, nevertheless. If you will give me the paper signed by him, which you claim to have, relinquishing all share in the stock at the New York brokers, I will--well, yes, I will pay you the sixteen hundred dollars." It was Sears Kendrick who was staggered now. It was his turn to stare. "You will pay me sixteen hundred dollars--_now_?" he gasped. "Yes." "But--but.... Humph! Well, thanks, Egbert--but your check, you know----" "I have no time to waste in drawing checks. I will pay you in cash." And, as Sears's already wide-open eyes opened wider and wider, he calmly took from his coat a pocketbook hugely obese and extracted from that pocketbook a mammoth roll of bank notes. Ten minutes later the captain was again moving along the road between Denboro and Bayport, bound home this time. He was driving mechanically; the horse was acting as his own pilot, for the man who held the reins was too much engrossed in thought to pay attention to such inconsequential matters as ruts or even roads. Sears was doing his best to find the answer to a riddle and, so far, the answer was as deeply shrouded in mist as ever a ship of his had been on any sea. He was satisfied in one way, more than satisfied. His demand for the full sixteen hundred had been made with no real hope. Had Phillips consented to return eight hundred dollars of the amount, the offer would in the end have been accepted with outward reluctance but inward joy. Had he refused to return a penny Kendrick would not have been surprised. But Egbert, after making up his mind, had paid the entire sum without a whimper, had paid it almost casually and with the air of one obliging a well-meaning, if somewhat annoying, inferior. Inspecting and pocketing Kent's power of attorney and the captain's receipt he had dismissed his visitor at the parsonage door as King Solomon in all his glory might have graciously dismissed a beggar whose petition had been granted. And the look in his eye and the half smile beneath the long mustache were not those of one beaten at a game--no, they were not.