rattled to
the floor.

Gregory took a step forward and shoved the knife away with his foot.
Keeping one eye fixed warily upon Mascola, he shot a glance over his
shoulder to determine the author of the interruption.

He turned to see a trim little figure in loosely-fitting outing clothes
striding across the floor. Facing the light which streamed in from the
open door, he could not distinguish the newcomer's face. He only noted
the ease of the stranger's movements, the poise of the uptilted head and
the nervous manner with which the Italians fell away before the
advancing figure.

"What's the trouble?"

Gregory stared. It was a girl. She had turned into the light and was
facing him. As he formed an answer to her question he saw that her
sun-bronzed cheeks were flushed with red and her clear brown eyes were
looking into his inquiringly. In her hand she held an automatic
revolver.

Gregory strove to make his explanation brief.

"These men refused to work. I told them to go. Mascola and I had some
trouble. He drew his knife. Then you came."

The girl nodded, dislodging a lock of red-gold hair from under her
knitted cap. Turning quickly to Mascola, she commanded: "Get out."

Mascola made no sign that he intended to comply with the order. With
folded arms he looked insolently at the speaker.

"When my men are paid, I will go. But first, I must have my knife."

His eyes roved longingly in the direction of the dagger.

The girl took a quick step backward and covered Mascola's waist-line
with the automatic.

"You'll go now," she said. Turning to Gregory she added: "Tell him
you'll pay him down-town."

Gregory picked up the Italian's knife before replying:

"I'll be at the bank at two," he said, making no move to comply with
Mascola's request for his weapon.

Mascola clenched his hands. His face grew red with passion. For an
instant he glared from Gregory to the girl. Then the color faded.
Turning to his men he spoke rapidly to them in their own tongue. The
workmen retired sullenly and picking up their coats followed their
leader to the door. Mascola hesitated for a moment on the threshold.
Then, checking the angry threat which rose to his lips, he went out.

Gregory watched him go in silence. Then he turned to the girl.

"My name is Gregory," he said. "You happened along just about right for
me."

The tense lines about the girl's mouth disappeared slowly as she passed
a small brown hand across her forehea