“Clear out of the City? I won’t take anything,” said Carpentaria. “All the gold of all the Rockefellers won’t clear me out. I’ve got the largest audience for my band that any bandmaster ever had, and I like it. It’s worth more than money to----” “Is it worth more than life to you?” asked the heavy President, gloomily. “No; but I reckon I can keep my life and my audience, too,” said Carpentaria. “At any rate, you’ve tried to have my life twice and failed, and that hasn’t frightened me. I’m less frightened than you are, even.” “I’ve not tried to kill you,” said Ilam. “You’ve tried to shoot me and to poison me. Why, I cannot imagine.” “I’ve not,” repeated Ilam.’ And, in spite of himself, Carpentaria was impressed by the apparent truthfulness of Ilam’s tone. “Then who has?” “I’ve no idea,” said Ilam lamely. “I don’t know what you mean, what you are referring to. But I’ll give you fifty thousand a year for ten years to go--to go.” “No,” said Carpentaria. “I’m here. I stay.” “Then, you’ll take the consequences.” “I always take the consequences. But what consequences, my friend?” “Well,” Ilam coughed, “you say there have been attempts on your life. Suppose they are continued? What then? I should like to save you. And perhaps I can only save you by persuading you to vanish.” “Awfully good of you,” Carpentaria sneered. “But I assure you that these attempts on my life interest me enormously. I wouldn’t miss them for a fortune. I’m beginning rather to like them. One gets used to an atmosphere of mystery. No, Mr. President, I shall not go; but Juliette will go. I shall send Juliette away to-morrow.” Ilam bit his lip. “That remains to be seen,” said he. “She likes me. I should make her a good husband. Why do you object to me?” “Why do you court her in the dark? Why do you force her to have secrets from me?” “That’s neither here nor there,” said Ilam. “I should make her a good husband.” “But what sort of a mother-in-law would she have if she married you?” demanded Carpentaria. Ilam made no reply. “And,” continued Carpentaria, “I don’t think it’s a good thing for a woman to have a husband who is always seeing ghosts.” “Seeing ghosts?” “Don’t you see ghosts?” sneered Carpentaria. “N--no.” “Come down with me, and I’ll show you one, then,” said the bandmaster. He had conceived the idea of confronting Ilam with Mr. Jetsam. The shifting searchlight from the balloon fell dazzlingly across the car, and through the window Carpentaria saw plainly for the fraction of a second the polished face of the Soudanese. Then it disappeared.