“He’s the grim-jawed, hard-bitted Blair of old. Just the same, he made his apology as handsomely as need be. I’ll bring him down here.” The fabric magnate descended from the studio and greeted Kent briefly, then turned to his host. “You will excuse me if I ask Mr. Kent to step outside. I have some business with him.” “Stay here,” said the artist. “I’ll go back to my studio.” Which he did. “When a man once declines employment with me,” said Alexander Blair to Kent, “I never give him a second chance. That rule I am going to break. I need your assistance.” “Honored, indeed!” murmured Kent. “Will you accept the commission?” “Not if it is like your former offer.” “It is not. It is bona fide. Some one has been tampering with my son’s grave.” “You mean the grave at Hedgerow House?” “Yes. Gansett Jim reports that there are signs of recent digging. It looks as if ghouls had been at work there, with the idea of getting the body and holding it for ransom. They would have had a fine surprise if they had got the coffin out!” “Because they’d have found no body in it, you mean?” “Certainly. But suppose they discovered that there were no remains, nothing but a punctured sand-bag. Do you see the potentialities of blackmail?” “No.” “Then you are stupider than I ever took you for,” growled the magnate. “Like most things, it depends on the point of view. I don’t think that you are in any danger of blackmail. But, if I understand the matter, you want your mind relieved of anxiety on the point. Very well, I’ll take the case.” “That is settled, then,” said the older man briskly. “Now, this being a strictly business deal, we will discuss terms.” “Oh, there is no room for discussion as to my terms,” said Kent easily. “I make them and you accept them, that’s all.” Alexander Blair’s eyebrows drew down in a heavy scowl. “Do you know of an old lady named Orcutt in Annalaka?” pursued the scientist. “No.” “She owns the house just next to Annalaka churchyard, where your son was buried as Jane Doe. She is a very worthy old lady. But she suffers severely from asthma. In fact it keeps her awake most of the night. So some interested persons have subscribed money, and sent her south to a sanatorium. I’d like to get you interested in her case.” “You wish me to subscribe?” “Oh, more than that. I think it would be a good idea if you were to assume the entire expense of the proceedings.” “You mean reimburse the subscribers?” “Exactly.” For a few seconds the millionaire studied Kent’s candid face. “Very well,” he agreed. “How much?” “Sheriff Schlager can tell you. He is keeping the accounts. You see, it was necessary to get her out of the way. Her windows overlook the churchyard.” “So you took occasion to indicate before.” “Repetition of a really relevant point is excusable. She left, two weeks ago, very much mystified but pathetically thankful, poor old girl!” “She has no monopoly on being mystified,” observed Mr. Blair, with pursed lips.