The Madagascar, as all the world knows, is one of our biggest and busiest hotels. Evan went boldly to the desk and asked if there were any letters for Mr. Roderick Frelinghuysen. The name sounded imposing. The busy clerk skimmed over the letters in the F box, and, tossing him a bulky envelope, thought no more about it.
Evan, in high satisfaction, wended his way to another hotel in the neighbourhood, and there at his leisure tore the envelope open and read—well, very much what he expected: a story designed to be used for blackmailing purposes against Simeon Deaves. No letter accompanied it; none was necessary.
This story dealt with ancient history, and contained uglier matter than mere ridicule of the old man's avarice. It had to do with the circumstances of the marriage of George Deaves to Maud Warrender and what followed thereupon. In other words, Maud had been engaged in the amiable occupation of fouling her own nest. According to this account Simeon Deaves had instigated his weak and complaisant son to woo Miss Warrender because her father was President of a railroad that Simeon Deaves coveted. As a result of the marriage Deaves, who up to that time had only been a money-lender, had succeeded in entering the realms of high finance. No sooner was his own position secure, so the story went, than Simeon Deaves set himself to work to undermine Warrender, and in the end ousted him from his railway and ruined him.
This tale had none of the finesse and humour of that written by the blackmailers; it was simply abusive. Yet Maud had not so far forgotten herself as to show her hand. The facts were such as many persons beside herself might have been aware of.
Evan painstakingly compared the sheets of the story with the paper Josefa had given him. Every typewriter, save it is just from the factory, has its peculiarities. There was enough here to make out a case: "e" was badly worn and had a microscopic piece knocked off its tail; "a," "w," "s" and "p" were out of alignment; there was something the matter with "g," so that the following letter generally piled up on top of it.
In short, Evan held in his hands positive evidence of Maud Deaves' treachery. But upon consideration he decided not to put it before her husband at least for the present. In the first place, he didn't relish taking the responsibility of breaking up the Deaves family, and in the second place it was clear that the woman was only a tool in the hands of a rascal far cleverer than she. To deprive him of his tool would not break up the rascal's game; he could get another. Therefore Evan decided to keep his discovery to himself, and use it if possible to land the principal in the affair.
He considered whether he should have the desk at the Madagascar watched with a view to apprehending "Mr. Frelinghuysen" when he asked for his letter, but decided against that also. So clever a fox would hardly be likely to walk into so open a trap. He would send an innocent agent for the letter, while he watched in safety. On the whole it seemed best to do nothing that might put him on his guard, but to wait until he attempted to use his story, for a chance to land him.
He procured another envelope, had the hotel stenographer address it, and, sealing up the manuscript, carried it back to the Madagascar and handed it in at the desk "for Mr. Frelinghuysen," careful to choose a different clerk from the one who had given it to him.
It must have been called for shortly afterwards and acted upon at once. Next morning, when Evan arrived at the Deaves house, the story was already back there. The customary violent family conference was in progress in the library. Evan guessed from their expressions that his name had entered into this quarrel. Indeed, Mrs. Deaves was for ordering him out of the room again, but the old man was too quick for her. He placed the latest letter in Evan's hands. Mrs. Deaves turned away with a shrug.
"Well, you know what I think of it," she said.