“I guess that’s right,” sneered Matthewson. “And how do you want this easy money?” “In good, crisp bank-notes that one can feel; and before I leave this room.” “Of course you’ll give a receipt when it’s paid over, setting out the terms of the bargain?” “Of course, I won’t!” retorted Cranston. “You’ll have to trust to my honour; that’ll be your protection.” “Then the bargain is, if I give you twenty-five thousand dollars, you’ll keep this story quiet. If I don’t, you’ll use it to my injury----” “To your ruin,” interrupted Cranston. “I’ll drive you and your family out of the State; I’ll destroy every shred of your influence, and I’ll do it with this story!” “There are no other terms; no other means by which I can stop you?” “You bet there isn’t; and if this gabble goes on much longer, I’ll double my price.” “Then we’ll stop it right here. I buy safety for twenty-five thousand dollars, and here’s five dollars to bind the bargain. I’m to send out and get the rest and pay to you before you leave. Are those the terms?” “Those are the terms, if you get the money quick enough.” “Then you can get out of this office, you skulking, blackmailing scoundrel, or I’ll throw you out of the window. Go, and don’t be slow about it, for my fingers are itching to get hold of you. I’m through with you!” For an instant, Cranston was dumbfounded by the sudden revulsion of position. He had believed the money practically in his grasp, and instead he encountered this dismissal of contempt and abuse. But his surprise was only for an instant. Then a flood of senseless anger, verging on madness, seized him. He had but one impulse and that was to punish the man who had led him on, only to throw him down. There was a flash of a pistol in his hand as he said: “But I’m not through with you, by God!” “You don’t need that to send you to State’s prison,” said a voice behind him, as a hand, seemingly of steel, grasped his and wrenched away the pistol. He turned and saw Trafford standing behind him. “By God, this is a dirty, contemptible trick, Trafford,” he gasped. “I guess that’s so, too,” Trafford answered, coolly, as he drew the charges from the revolver, before handing it back to Cranston; “but unfortunately there are some situations in life that can’t be reached by anything else, and this seems to be one of ’em.” “Now will you go?” demanded Matthewson, “while I’ve a notion to let you?” “I’ll go,” the man muttered; “but you aren’t through with me yet!” “When you feel a particular desire for free quarters at Thomaston, just meddle with my affairs again,” retorted Matthewson. “Until you do feel that way, you’d better let them alone.” CHAPTER XVI The Range 16 Scandal “I guess I didn’t make any mistake in staying,” said Trafford, more to break the embarrassing silence which followed Cranston’s withdrawal, than with any definite purpose.