“I am afraid I committed a breach of medical étiquette,” he said. “I sent to San Francisco and got the dope on the quiet about this Mr. Larmon. I found out that he is an enormously wealthy man; and I also found out that he poses as an immaculate pillar of society. It looks pretty good, doesn't it, Bruce--for me? Two birds with one stone; you for trying to get between me and Claire; and Larmon coughing up the dough to save your hide and save himself from being exposed for what he is!” John Bruce made no answer. They were not so fanciful now, not so unreal and wandering, those dreams when he had been ill, those dreams in which there had been a man with a quill toothpick, and another with a sinister, loathsome face, whose head was always cocked in a listening attitude. “Well, I guess you've got it now, all of it, haven't you?” Crang snarled. “It's lucky for you Larmon's got the coin, or I'd pass you out for what you did the other night. As it is you're getting out of it light. There's paper on the table. You write him a letter that will get him down here with a blank check in his pocket. I'll help you to word it.” Crang smiled unpleasantly. “He will be quite comfortable here while the check is going through the bank; for it would be most unfortunate, you know, if he had a chance to stop payment on it. And I might say that I am not worrying at all about any reprisals through the tracing of the check afterward, for if Mr. Larmon is paying me to keep my mouth shut there is no fear of his opening his own.” John Bruce turned slowly around. “And if I don't?” he asked quietly. Crang studied the revolver in his hand for a moment. He looked up finally with a smile that was hideous in its malignancy. “I'm not sure that I particularly care,” he said. “You are going to get out of my path in any case, though my personal inclination is to snuff you out, and”--his voice rose suddenly--“damn you, I'd like to see you dead; but on the other hand, my business sense tells me that I'd be better off with, say, a hundred thousand dollars in my pocket. Do you get the idea, my dear Mr. Bruce? I am sure you do. And as your medical advisor, for your health is still very much involved, I would strongly urge you to write the letter. But at the same time I want to be perfectly frank with you. There is a tail to it as far as you are concerned. I have a passage in my pocket--a first-class passage, in fact a stateroom where you can be secured so that I may make certain you do not leave the ship prematurely at the dock--for South America, on a steamer sailing to-morrow afternoon. The passage is made out in the name of John Bruce.” “You seem to have taken it for granted that I would agree to your proposal,” said John Bruce pleasantly. “I have,” Crang answered shortly. “I give you credit in some respects for not being altogether a fool.”