The Deaves Affair

THE IKUNAHKATSI."

"This is the return I get for the money I have paid you!" said George Deaves reproachfully.

"It's a bluff!" said Evan.

"Can you assure me of that?"

"I can't swear to it of course. Mr. Deaves gives me the slip once in a while. And there was one day I was not with him. But he says he didn't go out that day. I'm sure it's a bluff. If they had a new story on him they'd send it fast enough."

"Maybe they're going to print the last one."

"Maybe. But in that case why not say so? They have shown a queer sense of honour heretofore in suggesting that when you paid for a story that was done with. Have you got the envelope this came in?"

George Deaves handed it over. It was of medium size and made of cheap "Irish linen" paper. The post-mark was Hamilton Grange. A small peculiarity that Evan marked was that though it had been sent from a New York post-office the words "New York City" were written in full.

"What do you think about this Mrs. Drayton?" asked Deaves.

"A woman above suspicion. They're using her as they used Hassell. Easy enough to plant somebody in the Red Cross shop to watch the packages received. Someone to buy the picture you send."

"You advise me to ignore this then?"

"No, if it was me I'd call their bluff. Have a better moral effect. Get an old picture from somewhere and stick a piece of paper in the back. The fellow who wrote this letter fancies himself as a humorist. Answer him in kind. Write on the paper: 'Show me first your wares.'"

"What does that mean?" asked George Deaves innocently.

"A quotation from Simple Simon," answered Evan grinning.

The other man hung in a painful state of indecision, biting his nails. At last he said breathlessly with a tremendous effort of resolution: "Very well, I'll do it."

But the gang proved to have another shot in its locker. Next morning Evan was sent for again to the library where he found a family conclave in session. The gorgeous Maud in purple velvet and pearls ("How does she get the money out of them?" thought Evan) was detonating like a thunderstorm in the hills. George Deaves sat crushed at his desk, and the old man sputtered and snarled when he could get a word in. Maud (it was impossible for Evan to think of her by a more respectful name) promptly turned to discharge her lightnings at Evan's head.

"What are you good for?" she demanded. "Aren't you paid a good salary to keep my husband's father from disgracing us all? Why don't you do it then? Why don't you do it?"

Evan bit his lip to keep from smiling in her face. To an outsider these family rows smacked of burlesque. One could always depend on the actors to play their regular parts.

"If you would please explain," said Evan mildly.

"Read that!" She thrust a letter at him.

Evan read:

"Mrs. George Deaves:

Dear Madam:

Your husband has declined to purchase the latest anecdote of Mr. Simeon Deaves, and has bidden us to let the general public enjoy the laugh. This we will very gladly do, but knowing you to be a lady of sensitive nature, it seemed too bad not to give you a chance to act in the matter first. The story will be published in the Clarion this evening unless we hear from you or from Mr. Deaves. In case you wish to stop it please see our letter of yesterday for instructions how to reach us and what to send.

In the meantime pray accept, dear Madam, the assurances of our distinguished consideration, and believe us,

Yours most respectfully,

THE IKUNAHKATSI."

"Why wasn't it sent?" she cried.

"Mr. Deaves decided that they were bluffing this time," said Evan.

"You advised me!" said Deaves.

"Certainly" said Evan. "That's all I can do. The decision rests with you."

"Why wasn't I consulted?" cried Maud.

And so the storm raged up and down. Evan devoutly wished himself some place else.

"Knowing your father's propensity for disgracing us I don't believe it's a bluff!" cried Maud.

"Disgracing you!" retorted the old man. "Whose money paid for those gew-gaws?"

"Must I stand here to be insulted in the presence of my husband!"

"Papa, be quiet!"

"Disgracing you? Where would you all be, but for this disgraceful old man I'd like to know!"

But neither of the men was any match for Maud. Within a quarter of an hour she had driven the old man from the room and reduced her husband to a palpitating jelly.

In the end the latter said hopelessly: "Very well, I'll send the money."

Maud swept triumphantly out of the room. Evan looked after her with a new eye. During the last few minutes an extraordinary suspicion had come into his mind, an incredible suspicion, but it would not down.

The wretched George Deaves played with the objects on his desk. "All very well to say I'll send it," he muttered. "But where am I going to get it? Useless to ask Papa."

Evan was silent. There was nothing for him to say.

George Deaves looked at him aggrievedly. "You think I'm wrong to send it."

"I should think it would be hard enough to send it when they had something on you, let alone when they were only bluffing."

"It is hard," whimpered the other. "I think it's a bluff myself. But suppose it isn't and the story is printed. What would I say to Maud? How could I face her?"

"It's for you to decide," said Evan.

George Deaves rapped on his desk, bit his fingers, looked out of the window, got up and sat down again. Finally he said tremulously: "Very well, I'll take a chance."

With what anxiety they awaited the appearance of the Clarion may be guessed. Simeon Deaves and Evan started out immediately after lunch to get a copy. The old man wanted to go direct to the publishing office to get it damp from the press, but Evan persuaded him it would never do to betray so much anxiety in the matter. The Clarion office might be watched. Indeed it was not unlikely the gang had an agent there.

They found that none of the newsstands in the vicinity of the plaza carried the Clarion: "a socialistic rag" it was called in that neighbourhood. They had to walk all the way to Third avenue to find a dealer who would confess to handling it. It would be up at four he said, so that they had an hour to kill, which old Simeon spent very happily in the fish-market.