e you--do ye?--do ye?" and he waited. Ravenslee sat utterly
still, and when at last he spoke his voice sounded even more gentle than
before.

"My good Flowers, there is just one thing you shall not do, and that is,
speak her name in my hearing. You're not fit to, and, Mr. Flowers, I'll
not permit it."

"Is that so?" snarled M'Ginnis, "well, then, listen some more. I know as
you're always hangin' around her flat, and if Hermy don't care about
losing her good name--"

Even as Ravenslee's long arm shot out, M'Ginnis side-stepped the blow,
and Ravenslee found himself staring into the muzzle of a revolver.

"Ah--I thought so!" he breathed, and shrank away.

"Kind of alters things, don't it?" enquired M'Ginnis, hoarse and
jeering. "Well, if you don't want it to go off, sit down an' write Hermy
as pretty a little note as you can--no, shut that window first."

Silent and speechless, Ravenslee crossed to the window and drew down the
sash, in doing which he noticed a dark something that crouched beneath
the sill.

"An' now," said M'Ginnis, leaning against a corner of the desk, "sit
down here, nice an' close, an' write that letter--there's pen an' ink
an' paper--an' quick about it or by--"

M'Ginnis sprang up and turned as the glass of the window splintered to
fragments, and, almost with the crash, Ravenslee leapt--a fierce twist,
a vicious wrench, and the deadly weapon had changed hands.

"Lucky it didn't go off," said Ravenslee, smiling grimly at the revolver
he held, "others might have heard, and, Mr. Flowers, I want to be alone
with you just a little longer. Of course, I might shoot you for the
murderous beast you are, or I might walk you over to the nearest police
depot for the crook I think you are--but--oh, well, of late I've been
yearning to get my hands on you and so"--Ravenslee turned and pitched
the revolver through the broken window. But, almost as the weapon left
his hand, M'Ginnis was upon him, and, reeling from the blow, Ravenslee
staggered blindly across the room, till stayed by the wall, and sank
there, crouched and groaning, his face hidden in his hands.

With a cry hoarse and fierce, M'Ginnis followed and stooped, eager to
make an end--stooped to be met by two fierce hands, sure hands and
strong, that grasped his silken neckerchief as this crouching figure
rose suddenly erect. So for a wild, panting moment they grappled,
swaying grimly to and fro, while ever the silken neckerchief was twisted
tight a