“Hello! This is Baca!” the telephone said; and could Mr. Jones step up to the house? It thought that matters might be arranged. “_Immediatamente!_” said Mr. Jones, and hung up. “Now, Ducky,” he counseled, as they walked uptown, “you notice close, and I’ll show you some diplomacy. I’ll make Baca commit himself so deep that it will amount to a full confession. You still don’t quite believe what you think. When I am done with him you’ll have no doubts. That’s your great trouble, son--you don’t think hard enough. You don’t concentrate. You will not give to the matter in hand the full impact of your mind. You think straight enough but you haven’t got the punch.” * * * * * Baca lifted a sarcastic eyebrow at Ducky’s presence and bent a questioning look on Neighbor Jones, but showed them into the curtained room of the previous night’s conference. Refreshments were offered and declined. “Well, Mr. Jones, if you are still of the same mind to-morrow morning at ten o’clock your mortgage will be released to you on the terms you mentioned.” Neighbor wore a shamefaced look. He twiddled with his hat. “Maybe I didn’t do just right about that, Mr. Baca. I only wanted to draw you.” He looked up and smiled. “You see, we knew all the time that you fellows had Drake’s money,” he said chattily. “My proposition was to make you tip your hand--to convince Mr. Ducky that my reasoning was strictly O. K., if not logical.” Mr. Baca received this rather staggering communication point-blank but, aside from a heightened color, bore up under it with surprising spirit. Indeed, he seemed less disconcerted than Ducky Drake. “Ah!” said the lawyer. “You don’t lose much time in getting to the point, do you? Your candor is most commendable, and it shall be my endeavor to observe a like frankness with you. It is better so. Deceit and subterfuge are foreign to my disposition. Though not anticipating this particular turn of affairs, I have been forewarned against you, Mr. Jones, and have made my preparations accordingly. Felipe!” One of the portières slid aside, revealing a slim brown young man with a heavy revolver, and a fat brown young man with a rifle. At the other door the curtains parted for a glimpse of an older Mexican with a benign and philosophical face and a long white beard. His armament consisted of one double-barreled shotgun. All these men wore appreciative grins, and all these weapons were accurately disposed to rake Mr. Jones amidships. “My executive staff!” announced the lawyer urbanely. Neighbor nodded to the staff. Fascinated Ducky did the same. “So pleased!” he murmured. Baca paused for a moment to enjoy his triumph. Then he waved his hand. “That will do.” The portières slid together. “I’m not scared,” explained Neighbor Jones earnestly. “That noise you hear is only my teeth chattering!”