Harbert was the man who had fought him to rout in New York. This keen, aggressive young barrister had driven him into a corner from which he escaped only by merest chance. He knew James Bansemer for what he was. It had not been his fault that the man crawled through a small avenue of technicalities and avoided the punishment that had seemed so certain. He had waged war bitterly against the blackmailer, and he missed complete victory by a hair's breadth. Feeling the strain of the situation, Rigby talked with earnest volubility. He led the conversation into many lines--the war in the Philippines, the banquet, the play which Jane and Graydon were seeing. The thought of the play brought a shade of despair to his brow--pretty Miss Clegg was in the party with that "mucker" Medford. James Bansemer had been cold with speculation every instant of the time; had felt that Harbert's condemning gaze had never left him. Apparently listening to the others, he found himself wondering what Harbert's trip to Chicago signified. Gradually it dawned upon him that his old-time foe was not through with his fighting. The look in Rigby's eyes meant something, after all--and Rigby was Graydon's best friend! Harbert was in Chicago to act--and to act first! This thought shot into the man's brain like burning metal. It set every nerve afire. His nemesis had already begun his work. Before he left the Cable home that night he would be asking his host and hostess what they knew of one James Bansemer's past. As Bansemer arose to say good-night to the others, Harbert's eyes met his with deadly directness. "Where are your offices, Mr. Bansemer?" asked the New Yorker. There was something significant in the question. "Mr. Rigby and I have offices in the same building," he replied. "Will you come in and see me?" "I shall try," said the other. To have saved his life, Bansemer could not meet David Cable's questioning eyes as he shook hands with him. Cable's hands were like ice. Outside the house, in the whirling gale, the tall lawyer breathed easier, but not securely. His brain was clogged with doubts, fears, prophecies--all whirling like mad around the ominous figure of Denis Harbert. Suddenly, he stopped stockstill, the bitter scowl deepening in his eyes. With an oath he turned abruptly and hurried in the opposite direction. The time had come to make ready for battle. A few minutes later, he was writing the note which created so much commotion in the home of Elias Droom. CHAPTER XIII JANE SEES WITH NEW EYES It was not until the hurrying Bansemer entered the door of Rector's that the apprehension of having committed a senseless blunder came to him. "Good heavens!" he muttered, stopping short. "What a fool I'm getting to be-meeting old Elias, in a place like this! The theatre crowds--everybody in town will be here by eleven! Curse me, for a hopeless ass! I must get him away at once!"