Wilkinson started, glared at Leslie, then he sank into a chair, for he saw that she knew and had judged him, condemned him. "You see, what you got for your pains," Wilkinson said presently to Flomerfelt, sneeringly. Flomerfelt nodded; but as the two men stared at each other, they registered a silent pact; Flomerfelt agreed with Wilkinson, and Wilkinson agreed with Flomerfelt, that there should be a truce. This Beekman was a common enemy, and there must be no disclosures now: to give the game away would be to rob them both of everything. "You may as well answer, Mr. Wilkinson," continued Beekman, "for I'm determined on cleaning you up from top to toe. I'm your enemy and I shall make it my business to represent every other enemy you have. I've begun with Ilingsworth. I'm going to clear his name, put him where he belongs; I'm going to clear up mysteries and let daylight into the hidden places,--every mystery from the giving of your million-dollar bail bond to the secret of your pardon. Nothing shall escape me, I'll even ferret out the mystery of the death of Pallister, for," and his finger pointed straight toward Wilkinson, "for all I know you're at the bottom of that thing yourself." "Fidelity Deposit vaults," came gasping from the throat of Mrs. Peter V. from the other side of the room; and holding out her hands pleadingly toward Beekman, she added: "I had nothing, nothing whatever, to do with the murder of Roy. I am innocent, I can prove my innocence. I'll tell all I know. The Fidelity Deposit vaults--that's where...." She sank cowering into a chair. Flomerfelt realised now that he had made an egregious blunder in his method of the past: this wholesome fear that he had instilled in her had been his own undoing, a boomerang. But he was not yet through; he saw another loophole open for him. "Peter," he cried, "come to my terms and I'll help you to fight. If you don't----" Beekman stood by with folded arms. He had come there in a sort of frenzy, to give vent to his pent-up sense of injury. He had regretted his coming, it is true, the instant he stepped inside of the room. Yet it was this same frenzy, this determined air of his, this sweeping into the open and offering fight, they had really done the trick, struck terror to the hearts of all three. And now he actually smiled. Flomerfelt's game suddenly became clear, and Beekman knew that they were playing right into his hands. So he waited in silence. "Wilkinson," cried Flomerfelt, with quick, incisive tones, like dagger thrusts they were, "which shall it be?" "Neither!" exclaimed Wilkinson, his clenched hand crashing down upon the table, and then going over to his son-in-law, he laid his chubby hand upon his shoulder and said: "Eliot, my boy, you've got me beat--but I'm going to surrender, and--" he leered at Flomerfelt and Mrs. Peter V.; then added: "and not be given up." A moment later Flomerfelt started softly for the door, followed by Mrs. Peter V. But Beekman barred the way.