“No; she told me she was but recently from Chicago; that she was married; that her husband had been detained at the last moment, but would soon follow her.” “Well, what then?” “It ended in my paying for her supper, and we arose from the table together, leaving the restaurant together. “In the street I asked her direction, and proposed to accompany her as far as her door.” “It would seem as if, then, you took the lead in this thing.” “That is true in a way, yet she encouraged every step.” “Of course. Go on.” “She took me into Seventeenth street, and toward the east, to a respectable-looking house, which she said was one in which she was staying, and asked, indeed coaxed, me to enter. “Well, like a fool, I consented. She took me into the front parlor, and, asking me to be seated, went off, saying that she would return in a moment.” “She did, having changed her street dress for a flowing wrapper. Seating herself, she began a series of questions about myself that I, fool that I was, answered. “Suddenly, and without intimation of her purpose, she arose, and, coming to me, threw her arms about my neck, seating herself on my lap. “I was so astonished at this for a moment I was helpless, and in that moment there was a flash of light that blinded me. “The woman laughed gayly, and, jumping up, ran into the other room. A moment later she returned, saying: “‘Come, Papa Cary. I don’t give my pleasant company for nothing. You’ve enjoyed my society for two or three hours. You must pay for it. Come! Shell out!’ “‘What is this?’ I cried, ‘blackmail?’ “‘Some unpleasant people call it that, I believe,’ she said. ‘But whatever it is, you must submit.’ “‘Not by any means,’ I said. ‘You have attacked the wrong person.’ “Again she laughed, and, springing up, ran into the next room, to return in a moment, bringing with her a photograph plate. “‘You may look at that,’ she said, holding it up before me. Over the rim she pointed a small revolver. “I looked to see that a photograph of myself, with her on my lap, her arms about my neck, had been taken. “I fairly staggered back in alarm, and with a merry, mocking laugh, she hurried with the plate into the other room. When she came back, she said: “‘I’m a business woman, Papa Cary. A short horse is soon curried. Out with your money, or, as soon as these photos are printed they will be sent to decorate your home and your office.’ “In my first fright over this threat I took some money from my pocket, but the thought came that payment wouldn’t end it, and that I ought to bargain with her in a way that would secure me. “While I hesitated, thinking what to do, by a quick movement she snatched the money from my hand, crying, with a laugh: ‘Thank you.’ “I protested—demanded its return. But she said: “‘Oh, no! You have given me this, and it will not be the last that you will give me, either. This is only the beginning. And I will pay you for it by always keeping those photographs.’