“Compromise” Carey managed to articulate. Bob removed his finger. “The court will now listen to any new testimony that may be adduced in the case of The People versus Carey. Fire away, Boston.” “What are you?” panted Carey. “A man or a devil?” “Just a plain human being, so flat busted, Boston, that I rattle when I walk. What would you suggest to cure me of that horrible ailment?” “Silence--on both sides--and a hundred thousand for your water right.” “Well, from your point of view, that offer is truly generous. It is now my turn to be surprised at your generosity. But you're shy on imagination, Boston--and I'm--a greedy rascal. You'll have to raise the ante.” “Two hundred thousand.” “Still too low. The power rights alone are worth a million.” “A million, then--you to leave the United States and not return during my lifetime.” Bob laughed. “You don't understand, Boston. Why should I sell you my water right? You must have water on the brain.” “Then, why have you called to see me? Is it blackmail? Why, this interview is degenerating into a ease of the pot calling the kettle black! I'm a fool, McGraw. I shall offer you nothing at all. You can be convicted of stage robbery and you haven't a dollar in the world to make your defense--while I--it takes _evidence_ to convict a man like me.” “Yes, I know your kind. You think you're above the law. I notice, however, that you fear it a little. I sprung a good one on you that time, didn't I, Boston? Imagine the self-possessed T. Morgan Carey practically confessing to a murder on a mere accusation.” He wagged his head at Carey sorrowfully, and continued. “You said a minute ago, Carey, that I had brains. You did not underestimate me. I have. I would not have come to you this morning if I did not have the goods on you. Not much. I don't hold you that cheap, Boston--” “Don't call me that name” snarled Carey. “All right, Boston, I won't, since you object. Sit quiet, now, and I'll tell you a very wonderful story--profusely illustrated, as the book agents say. It's rather a long story, so please do not interrupt me.” He unrolled the paper which he had taken from his pocket and held it up before his cringing victim. It was an enlargement from a kodak picture of a desert scene. In the foreground lay two human skeletons. Bob picked a pencil off Carey's desk and lightly indicated one of these skeletons. “That bundle of bones was once Oliver Corblay. Notice those footprints over to the right! See how plainly they loom up in the picture? And over there--see that little message, Bos--I mean, Mr. Carey. It says: 'Friend, look in my canteen and see that I get justice.' “Behold the friend who looked in the canteen, and who is now here for justice for that skeleton. He's waited twenty years for it, Carey, but he's going to get it to-day. Don't squirm so. You distract my mind from my story.