She seemed gallingly oblivious to his scorn. “We expect to have a very good photograph of you, Mr. Thornton — with me in your arms. It’s merely a question of who considers that photograph of greater value — you or — Mrs. Thornton. We consider it worth to you at least five thousand dollars. That shouldn’t be a staggering sum to a man who can lay his hands on fifty thousand cash at any moment he desires.”
“And suppose I — don’t consider it worth — or, rather, suppose I refuse to pay the blackmail?”
“Then, of course, I shall make the best bargain possible with Mrs. Thornton. I’m giving you first option.”
“So generous of you,” Thornton smiled, scornfully.
She seemed entirely unabashed and stood waiting expectantly, as if never doubting the final acceptance of her offer.
Thornton was interested in the woman’s methods; she seemed so confident of herself.
“Tell me,” he said, interestedly, “is this an — everyday occurrence with you?”
She smiled reprovingly.
“Rich men are not so plentiful, Mr. Thornton. Besides, we must pick our time. I never take chances — I always make sure of my ground first. You will notice I chose a time when you would be least likely to have any callers.”
“But why all the rigmarole about the mysterious invention?” he persisted.
“I can’t seem to conquer my love for dramatics, Mr. Thornton,” the woman replied, smiling sheepishly. “I once followed the profession, you know, until I discovered there were greater returns in my present one. Besides, it is rather difficult to prepare to take a flashlight in a man’s office without exciting his suspicion. The curtain covering the lens of the camera, you will recall, was not drawn back until the exact moment before the charge of powder was ignited. All a matter of mechanism,” she explained, rather proudly.
“I suppose the — returns — are very gratifying?” he queried, noticing a huge diamond on her finger.
“I have no complaint,” she replied, not taken back in the slightest. “Sometimes it is — rather embarrassing — but I try to cause as little trouble as possible.”
“And is that part of your returns?” Thornton asked, pointing to the stone on her hand which was flashing brilliantly in the early morning sunlight.
She gazed proudly at the diamond.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” she said, enthusiastically.
Thornton knew enough of precious stones to realize that the ring must have cost several thousand dollars. The diamond was extraordinarily large and of very fine cut.
The woman turned suddenly to go.
“Well, Mr. Thornton, I know you’re a busy man, so I won’t take up any more of your time — today. If we have been unfortunate in our photography, we will not bother you again. If it comes up to our expectations, I shall return tomorrow at this time for your decision.”
Thornton bowed her out, admiring, in spite of himself, the woman’s self-possession and complete confidence.
A few moments later he rang for his secretary, anxious to get his day’s mail off his mind, so that he could give thought to the new problem that had thrust itself upon him. He waited a few moments and was surprised that Miss Armstrong was, not as prompt as usual in answering.
He looked into the outer office and found her at her desk, gazing dreamily out the window, apparently oblivious to her surroundings.
He called her wonderingly. She rose with a start, and, smiling sheepishly, followed him into his office.
“Day dreaming?” he asked, smiling.
Miss Armstrong laughed, rather shamefacedly. “Yes, and a very foolish thing to dream about. I was picturing myself wearing the ring worn by the lady who just left.”
“It was a beauty, wasn’t it?” he conceded.
“Oh, it was wonderful!” his secretary exclaimed, with beaming eyes.
From the expression on the girl’s face, Thornton could understand how some women sold their souls for less expensive baubles.
II
Promptly at ten-thirty the next morning, Miss Bender called and was ushered immediately into Thornton’s private office.
Thornton nodded a pleasant greeting and offered her a chair. He noticed a large envelope in her hand and surmised that it contained the photograph. He glanced up at her expectantly.
“I have good news, Mr. Thornton,” Miss Bender smiled, “that is, good news if you look at it from my viewpoint.”
“You succeeded in getting a good photograph?”
“Excellent! It could not be clearer!”
He found himself wondering why he was able to joke so pleasantly with this woman, who had so easily tricked him and then laughed at his stupidity.
“Now, would you mind giving me your proposition in detail, Miss—”
“There is nothing that I did not tell you yesterday, Mr. Thornton,” she interrupted. “I have the photograph here which my assistant took yesterday. It is a first class likeness of yourself, holding me in your arms. I believe it should be worth at least five thousand dollars to you. If you don’t agree with me, then I shall strike a bargain with Mrs. Thornton for it — and I’m sure it would interest her!”
“And if I pay you this five thousand dollars, what is to prevent you from—”
“I’ll give you the negative also, and my word of honor that I shall make no further attempt to use the incident against you.”
Thornton smiled at the reference to her “word of honor.”
“You realize, I suppose,” he said, slowly and with emphasis, “that this is pure blackmail?”
“Please don’t use that word, Mr. Thornton!” the woman returned, mockingly. “There are so many nicer ways of expressing it.”
“Would you mind allowing me to see what I am asked to pay such a sum of money for?” Thornton said, changing the subject abruptly.
His visitor obligingly produced the photograph and handed it over. From the attitude of the two in the picture, it certainly would be conclusive evidence in any divorce court. Thornton gazed at it a few moments, smiling enigmatically, then turned to his desk and picked up a large envelope. Placing the photograph inside, he silently addressed the envelope and sealed it.
His visitor scented trickery. “Just a reminder, Mr. Thornton, that you haven’t paid for the photograph yet, and another reminder that I still have the negative and can make as many duplicates as I choose.”
Thornton made no reply, but turned and faced the door leading into his outer office.
“Have you everything so far, Miss Armstrong?” he asked, without raising his voice.
The woman turned quickly, on her guard, but she saw no one. The man at the desk was evidently talking to the wall. She glanced hurriedly about the office, then turned and stared wonderingly at Thornton.
Three short, sharp knocks sounded on the outer door.
Thornton smiled.
“You may cut the wires now, Miss Armstrong, please,” he said pleasantly.
Two short knocks sounded on the door, in answer to his instructions.
Thornton turned to his caller. “Now, Miss — Bender, is it? — I want to thank you for the photograph and compliment you on the excellence of the work.”
The woman’s lips curled in contempt, and she laughed carelessly, evidently confident of herself.
“I must warn you again, Mr. Thornton, that I still have the negative. It’s a matter of a few minutes to make a duplicate of that photograph.”
Thornton ignored her remark as he continued. “I will admit that I consider the photograph easily worth the amount you ask, but as long as it is not necessary to purchase it, why should I?”
The woman arose, furious, and prepared to make her departure.
“Just a moment, please,” Thornton said, quietly, “I’ll have to ask my secretary to unlock the door before you can go.”
The woman rushed angrily to the door, for she believed Thornton was bluffing. She tried the knob and found the door locked.