"No, you're not; for you are an honest man." It was hard for Huntington to be brutal, but this was the moment when Hamlen must be forced to yield if at all. "You said a moment ago that I gave you back the life you had abandoned; then that life belongs to me. If you destroy it, you rob me of something which is mine, and that is theft. I don't care whether you agree with me or not, but I demand of you my property, on which you gave up your claim. If I leave it in your hands will you protect it for me, and deliver it to me when I am ready to make use of it?" This was a new idea to Hamlen, and he could not meet it. He was only conscious that Huntington was taking full advantage of his influence over him, and was driving him on relentlessly. He shifted his eyes uncomfortably, and in them was bitter resentment. "You leave me no alternative," he said helplessly. "For God's sake tell me what you want!" "I don't know," Huntington admitted frankly; "but for the present give me your promise that you will stay here until I reach my decision. I must go back to Sagamore to relieve the anxiety of those who are suffering on your account. When I return I shall hope to have found the solution. Have I your promise?" Hamlen leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. "You are too strong for me," he muttered. "I must do as you wish." Huntington laid his hand kindly on the bowed head. * * * * * XXXVI * * * * * In spite of Mrs. Thatcher's watchfulness, Billy had seen Merry and met his Waterloo. Blissfully unaware of the momentous happenings about him, and determined to "get even" with "the Gorgon," the boy developed a plot of his own which was perfect in conception barring one important detail: he and Merry were to slip away in a motor-car, dash over to Fall River to a young clergyman he knew, have the knot tied before interference was possible, and then return to Sagamore Hall for the parental blessing. The question of license occurred to him, but that was a mere detail which could be arranged on the way over. It was several days after this brilliant idea came to Billy before he found opportunity to take Merry into his confidence, but the more he thought it over the more strongly it appealed. The fact that she seemed even less responsive than usual did not discourage him, for girls, he had discovered, always act exactly contrary to their real feelings in affairs of this kind. The details were so absurdly simple and the outcome would be so eminently satisfactory that the possibility of failure became more and more remote. But, as the strength of any chain is determined by its weakest link, it was in this one omitted detail that Billy's plan slipped up; the idea did not appeal to Merry with sufficient force even to be given serious consideration.