"Surely you thought I'd look you up when I got back to town! I asked at the Mission. A girl in the office there wrote your address down on a card for me. And told me a few things." She narrowed her eyes--almost all their once remarkable brilliance was gone. "A few things, mister." "Please say at once what you want," he asked, trying to speak with restraint. "Just to see an old acquaintance." "Come to the point!" he said sharply. "Well, then--I'm broke." "I don't see why that brings you to me." "Because you're going to give me money--that's why." "I certainly will not!" "Oh, yes, you will--when I get through with you. You wouldn't want me to tell all I know of Phil Morton, now would you?" "Tell if you want to." Anger at her as the cause of his five hard years was rising rapidly. He pointed savagely to a mirror that Kate had put up behind the door. "Look at yourself. Who'll believe your word?" "But I won't ask 'em to believe my word," she said softly, her eyes gleaming triumph at him. Her words and manner startled him. "What do you mean?" "Why, I'll show the letters, of course." "Letters! What letters?" "Morton's letters." "Morton's letters!" He stared at her. "You gave them to me." "Part of them." She laughed quietly, and ran the tip of her tongue between her lips. "Oh, you were easy!" David choked back an impulse to lay vengeful hands upon her. "You're lying!" he said fiercely. "Oh, I am, am I?" She slipped a hand into the pocket of her skirt, paused in the action, and her baiting smile turned to a look of threat. "If you try to grab them, if you make a move toward me, I'll scream, people will rush in here, and the whole thing will come out at once! You understand?" The tormenting smile returned, and she slowly drew from her skirt a packet of yellow letters held together by an elastic band. She removed the band, drew one sheet from its envelope, and held it up before David's eyes. "You needn't bother about reading it. You've read one bunch--and they're all alike. But look at the handwriting. I guess you know that, don't you? And look at the signature: 'Always with love--Phil.' That's one letter--there are fourteen more. And look at this photograph of the two of us together, taken while he was in Harvard. And look at this letter written five years ago, saying he'd send me five hundred the next day--and at this letter, written two days before he died, saying he hadn't another cent and couldn't get it. I guess you're satisfied." She coolly snapped the band over the bundle and returned the letters to her pocket. "I guess I'll get some money, won't I?" "I see," David remarked steadily, "that I must again call your attention to the fact that there are such things as laws against blackmailing."