He pushed Caddy down the aisle with his large hand, and the little drink mixer went without much urging. “I’ll see you later!” he flashed at Margie. “No threats!” cried the other man. “Get out, I say, and the sooner the better.” Then the tall man turned to Margie and said: “Pardon me, but I thought I heard him call you Margie. It cannot be Miss Margie Marne whom I address?” “That’s my full name, sir,” said the girl, dropping her eyes. “My name is McDonald--Jerry McDonald. I own a little business property in this city. The man who just left is a little rascal. I suppose he decoyed you hither?” Margie told the story of her coming to the place, and McDonald said: “He’s revengeful, and you will do well to look after him. If you ever need my assistance in any way don’t hesitate to command it,” and he handed the girl his card. In another moment the still astonished girl was alone. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE COST OF A SECRET. George Richmond found himself suddenly free from his antagonist in Mother Flintstone’s den. The battle ended sooner than he thought, for his enemy gave a lurch which disengaged them, and when George recovered he was the sole occupant of the place. “Who was he?” the astonished man asked himself. The reply came from his imagination, and he sprang to the door and looked out. No one there. “I accused him of being Carter, the detective, but he did not reply,” he went on. “Years ago I was in Carter’s hands and the grip to-night seemed the same. But I may have been mistaken. I mustn’t forget that years have passed since Carter caught me red-handed. I cannot believe that my foe to-night was the detective.” George did not resume his inspection of the old hearth, for he turned away after replacing the last brick and slipped into the street. He was to vanish now. That was his bargain with Claude Lamont, and he knew that the fictitious account of his death was even then in the hands of the printers. He turned up later in another part of the city. He crossed the bridge and vanished in Brooklyn. Chuckling to himself, he thought of how he had played it on Perry Lamont. In a small room he threw himself upon a couch to snatch a little sleep. He was to be pronounced dead by the newspaper to Perry Lamont. That was a part of the conspiracy. Claude, the blackmailer of his own father, was to attend to that part of the work and he--George--was to get some of the blood money. Thinking how easily the game moved onward to success, he fell asleep, nor waked till the next morning. Then he set about disguising himself most thoroughly. He changed his eyebrows, he darkened his hair and he gave his upper lip a sweeping mustache. After his work no one would have called him George Richmond. Meantime, over in the larger city, Perry Lamont, entering the library earlier than usual, as if he expected to hear some news, found Claude there. Father and son looked at one another for a second, and Claude pointed at a newspaper on the desk.