Soon after the sound of the striking clock had died away, Tip’s keen eyes saw a figure steal around one side of the house from the rear.

“Here comes Rip, now.  He’s on time,” thought Tip.  “Huh!  It’s a pity—–­fer—–­him that he wouldn’t take a new think an’ chase me.  But he’s like most pups that hire other folks to do their tough work—–­they hain’t ‘t got no nerve o’ their own.”

Fred came stealthily out of the yard, after looking back at the house.  He went straight up to young Scammon.

“So here ye are, pal,” laughed Tip.  “Glad ye didn’t keep me waitin’.  Ye brought the wherewithal?”

“See here, Tip, you scoundrel,” muttered Fred, hoarsely, a worried look showing in his eyes, “I’m getting plumb down to the bottom of anything I can get for you.”

“I told ye to bring twenty,” retorted young Scammon, abruptly.  “That will be enough.”

“I couldn’t get it,” muttered Fred.

“Now, see here, pal,” warned Tip, threateningly, “don’t try to pull no roots on me.  Ye can get all the money ye want.”

“I couldn’t this time,” Fred contended, stubbornly.  “I’ve got eleven dollars, and that’s every bit I could get my hands on.”

“But I’ve got to have twenty,” muttered Tip, fiercely.  “Now, ye trot back and look through yer Sunday-best suit.  You have money enough; yer father’s rich, an’ he gives ye a lot.  Now, ye’ve no business spendin’ any o’ that money until ye’ve paid me what’s proper comin’ to me.  So back to the house with ye, and get the rest o’ yer money!”

“It’s no use, Tip.  I simply can’t get another dollar.  Here’s the eleven, and you’d better be off with it.  I can’t get any more, either, inside of a fortnight.”

“See here,” raged young Scammon, “if ye think ye can play-----”

“Take this money and get off,” demanded Fred, impatiently.  “I’m going back home and to bed.”

“I guess, boy, it’s about time fer me to see your old man,” blustered Tip.  “If I hold off until to-morrer afternoon, will ye have the other nine, an’ an extry dollar fer me trouble?”

“No,” rasped Fred.  “It’s no use at all—–­not for another fortnight, anyway.  Good night!”

Turning, Fred sped across the street and back under the shadows at the rear of the lawyer’s great house.

“I wonder if the younker’s gettin’ wise?” murmured Tip.  “He ain’t smart enough to know that fer him to go to his old man an’ tell the whole yarn ’ud be cheapest in the run.  The old man ’ud be mad at Rip, but the old man’s a lawyer, an’ ’ud know how to lay down the blackmail law to me!”

Feeling certain that he was wholly alone by this time, Tip had spoken the words aloud or sufficiently so for him to be heard a few feet away by any lurker.

Shivering a bit, for he was none too warmly clad, young Scammon turned, making his way up the street.

Fully two minutes after Tip had gone his way Dick Prescott stepped out from behind the place where Tip had been standing.