n," he commanded.

Binhart still sat in the low reed chair. He made no movement in
response to Blake's command.

"What's the good of getting rough-house," he complained.

"Gi' me the gun," repeated Blake.

"Jim, I hate to see you act this way," but as Binhart spoke he slowly
drew the revolver from its flapped pocket. Blake's revolver barrel was
touching the white shirt-front as the movement was made. It remained
there until he had possession of Binhart's gun. Then he backed away,
putting his own revolver back in his pocket.

"Now, get your clothes on," commanded Blake.

"What for?" temporized Binhart.

"You 're coming with me!"

"You can't do it, Jim," persisted the other. "You could n't get me
down to the waterfront, in this town. They 'd get you before you were
two hundred yards away from that door."

"I 'll risk it," announced the detective.

"And I 'd fight you myself, every move. This ain't Manhattan Borough,
you know, Jim; you can't kidnap a white man. I 'd have you in irons
for abduction the first ship we struck. And at the first port of call
I 'd have the best law sharps money could get. You can't do it, Jim.
It ain't law!"

"What t' hell do I care for law," was Blake's retort. "I want you and
you 're going to come with me."

"Where am I going?"

"Back to New York."

Binhart laughed. It was a laugh without any mirth in it.

"Jim, you 're foolish. You could n't get me back to New York alive,
any more than you could take Victoria Peak to New York!"

"All right, then, I 'll take you along the other way, if I ain't going
to take you alive. I 've followed you a good many thousand miles,
Connie, and a little loose talk ain't going to make me lie down at this
stage of the game."

Binhart sat studying the other man for a moment or two.

"Then how about a little real talk, the kind of talk that money makes?"

"Nothing doing!" declared Blake, folding his arms.

Binhart flickered a glance at him as he thrust his own right hand down
into the hand-bag on his knees.

"I want to show you what you could get out of this," he said, leaning
forward a little as he looked up at Blake.

When his exploring right hand was lifted again above the top of the bag
Blake firmly expected to see papers of some sort between its fingers.
He was astonished to see something metallic, something which glittered
bright in the light from the wall lamp. The record of this discovery
had scarcely been carried b