“If you had tried to strike me then I’d have floored you,” he growled. “And it is well for you that you did not try it on.” Rich made no reply. He only glared at the cabby in silence. His face was as dark as night. Carter hung on to the sill. He had viewed the scene through the transom, and he had heard every word that had been uttered. His arms were aching. He was forced to let go his hold. Without making a noise he dropped to the floor. Now he stood outside the door and listened. At last he heard Rich exclaim: “Speak out, sir, and tell me how you learned my name and address?” “I’m not giving my friends away,” the cabby replied. “What do you want?” “Money.” “Money!” “Yes.” “What for?” “To keep my tongue from wagging.” “I----” “You understand me, Mr. Rich. The man whom you tracked from the Grand Central on the day before New Year’s was the man who was murdered at the Red Dragon Inn.” Carter had raised himself up again so that he was peering through the transom when the cabman uttered these words. Rich did not start. He displayed not the least sign of fear. He glanced at the man with a sinister expression upon his darkly handsome face. “I am aware of that,” he replied, in cold, harsh tones. “You are a good bluffer, Rich,” the cabby remarked, and he smiled. It was as good as looking at a play to watch these two men. Both now had their tempers under command. “You call me a bluffer,” Rich retorted. “I do,” cabby rejoined. “I am not afraid of you. I will go to the police and inform them that you tracked Lawrence on the day before New Year’s, and you hired one of the worst thugs in the city to keep on his trail. Carter would reward me liberally for this information.” “You are a scoundrelly blackmailer.” “I acknowledge the corn. I’ve got you in a corner and you will have to pay----” “Not one cent will I give you.” “Think twice, Mr. Rich.” “Be careful, Sim.” It was one of the women who spoke. She had come up to Rich’s side and laid her hand gently upon his arm. The man glanced at her and said: “I know what I am about, Sally.” Carter knew from this that the woman was Rich’s sister. The other woman he surmised was Isabella Porter. A broad grin spread over the cabby’s face. “Yes, be careful, Mr. Rich,” he sneered. He was becoming more insolent the longer he waited. Rich wheeled around. His large, black eyes were flashing, his face was aflame with passion. “_You_ be careful,” he hissed between his clenched, white teeth, and he drew his arm back. Sally threw herself between her brother and the cabman. “Sim,” she ejaculated, “calm yourself.” “Yes, calm yourself, my covey,” cabby repeated with a chuckle. Rich bit the ends of his mustache and glared. He was making a desperate effort to keep calm. A silence followed. Cabby kept his eyes on Rich. When he saw that Simeon was not going to speak he said: