to say that you wore the
Wellington livery with better grace than the gentleman's clothing that
now adorns you--with better grace, I might even venture, than the
uniform you occasionally wear."

Armitage, who quickly saw the advantage of Koltsoff's poise, curbed his
anger, at least so far as speech was concerned.

"Look here, Koltsoff," he said, "let us understand each other. I am
going to get that control or one or the other of us is going to be
carried out of this room."

"You have the revolver--it will probably be I," said Koltsoff.

With an exclamation Jack reached into his pocket, drew out the
revolver, and hurled it through the open window. They could hear it
clatter on the cliffs below and then splash into the ocean.
Instinctively, Koltsoff's eyes had followed the flight of the weapon.
When he turned his head Jack was close at his side. The Russian
stepped back. Jack moved forward.

"Now," he said in a low tense voice, "that magnetic control--quick!"
There was no mistaking the quiet ferocity of his manner.

Koltsoff had ceased to smile.

"I have n't it."

"Are--you--going--to--give--me--that--control?"

"I have n't it. I swear. Look--look anywhere, everywhere. See if I
do not speak the truth."

"Then get it."

Koltsoff moved to a bureau and Jack followed him.

"Wait," said the Russian. Then like lightning his hand shot out to a
heavy brass candlestick and the next instant had aimed a murderous blow
at Jack's head. Armitage caught the flash of the descending weapon in
time to duck his head, taking the force upon the lower muscles of his
neck. The wave of pain was as the lash to a mettlesome horse. Before
the Prince could swing the candlestick again Armitage had him by the
throat and bore him to the floor, half stifling his shriek for help.

As Armitage seized the candlestick and tossed it to one side, the knob
of the door turned and the door itself partly opened. He sprang to his
feet, pulled Koltsoff to his knees, and as he stood thus the door was
pushed wide and Anne Wellington stepped across the threshold.

Her face was pale, her eyes were blazing.

One hand, holding a heavy package, she held behind her back. With the
other she pointed to Prince Koltsoff with the imperiousness of a queen.

"What does this mean?" she asked sternly.

Behind her in the doorway the tragic face of Sara Van Valkenberg was
framed.

"This--this scoundrel was trying to murder me."

Armitage was look