tainly, and then
tossed them in the fire.

"Come, come, Lawton," said my father sharply. "Where are your manners?
Surely you are not afraid, not afraid of a picture, Lawton?"

"No," said Mr. Lawton, "I am not afraid."

"Ah," said my father, "I thought I knew you better. Another pack of
cards for Mr. Lawton, Brutus. Let us trust, Lawton, that these will suit
you better."

"You misunderstand me," said Mr. Lawton simply. "I am not going to play."

"Not going to play?" exclaimed my father, raising his eyebrows.

Slowly Mr. Lawton shook his head.

"You are far too generous, Shelton," he said. "If you shot me where I
stand, you would only be giving me my fair deserts. If I had been in your
place and you in mine, both you and Jason would have been dead ten
seconds after I had entered the door."

"Don't be a fool, Lawton," cried my father, raising his hand. "Think what
you are saying!"

"I have thought," he replied sharply. "The game is over, Shelton, and I
know when I am beaten. We have not got the paper, Jason, and you remember
what I said. If you failed to get it, I should tell the whole story, and
now, by heaven, I will. Every man in town will know it tomorrow morning.
I told you I would be shut out of this business, and I mean it, Jason."

On my father's face came something closer to blank astonishment than I
had ever seen there. Something in the situation was puzzling him, and for
the moment he seemed unable to cope with it.

"Lawton," he said slowly, "shuffle those cards, or I'll shoot you where
you stand."

Mr. Lawton placed the cards on the table, and adjusted them thoughtfully.

"No, you won't," he replied. "I know you better than that. You would
never draw a weapon on any man unless he had an equal chance, and I
haven't, Shelton."

I had stepped forward beside him. Was there someone else at the bottom of
the whole wretched business? Was it possible that my father had no hand
in it? A glance at Mr. Lawton answered a half a hundred questions which
were darting through my mind.

And my father was still staring in a baffled way, eyeing Mr. Lawton in
silent wonder.

"So," he said, "you think I'll forgive you? Is it possible you are
relying on my Christian spirit?"

"No," said Mr. Lawton, "I do not ask you to forgive me. I am saying I
have stopped. That is all--stopped, do you understand me? I should nave
stopped when Jason commissioned me to kill your son. I should have, if
this affair with France wa