As for Pierce, he was deeply resentful of Joe's false accusation--the memory of that was ineradicable--nevertheless, in view of the outcome of that cowardly attempt, he had no desire for further revenge. It seemed to him that the fellow had been sufficiently punished for his misdeed; in fact, he could have found it easy to feel sorry for him had it not been for the ill-concealed malice in Joe's present tone and attitude. He was upon the point of answering Joe's indirect threat with a warning, when his attention was attracted to a short, thick-set, nervous man at his elbow. The latter had edged close and was staring curiously at him. He spoke now, saying: "So you're Phillips, eh?" It was Joe who replied: "Sure. This is him." There was no need of an introduction. Pierce recognized the stranger as another McCaskey, for the family likeness was stamped upon his features. During an awkward moment the two men eyed each other, and Joe McCaskey appeared to gloat as their glances clashed. "This is Frank," the latter explained, with a malicious grin. "He and Jim was pals. And, say! Here's another guy you ought to meet." He laid a hand upon still a second stranger, a man leaning across the bar in conversation with a white-aproned attendant. "Count, here's that fellow I told you about." The man addressed turned, exposing a handsome, smiling blond face ornamented with a well-cared-for mustache. "I beg pardon?" he exclaimed, vacuously. "Meet Phillips. He can give you some dope on your wife." Joe chuckled. Phillips flushed; then he paled; his face hardened. "Ah! To be sure." Count Courteau bowed, but he did not extend his hand. "Phillips! Yes, yes. I remember. You will understand that I'm distracted for news of Hilda. She is with you, perhaps?" "I left her employ at White Horse. If she's not here, she'll probably arrive soon." "Excellent; I shall surprise her." Pierce spoke dryly. "I'm afraid it won't be so much of a surprise as you think. She rather expects you." With a short nod and with what pretense of carelessness he could assume he moved on toward the rear of the building, whence came the sounds of music and the voice of a dance-hall caller. For some time he looked on blindly at the whirling figures. Joe McCaskey here! And Count Courteau! What an astonishing coincidence! And yet there was really nothing so remarkable about it; doubtless the same ship had brought them north, in which event they could not well have avoided a meeting. Pierce remembered Hilda's prophecy that her indigent husband would turn up, like a bad penny. His presence was agitating--for that matter, so was the presence of Joe McCaskey's brother Frank, as yet an unknown quantity. That he was an enemy was certain; together, he and Joe made an evil team, and Pierce was at a loss just how to meet them. Later, when he strolled out of the saloon, he saw the three men still at the bar; their heads were together; they were talking earnestly. CHAPTER XVIII