Broffin made
sure he distinguished the note of anxiety.

"Two days back: missed a connection on account of high water in the
Ohio. Might have stayed another twelve hours in the good old levee town
if we'd only known, eh, Johnson?" And then again to Griswold: "Remember
that supper we had at Chaudiere's, the night I was leaving for the
banana coast? By George! come to think of it, I believe that was the
last time we forgathered in the--Say, Kenneth, what have you done with
your beard?"

Something clicked in Broffin's brain; then the wheels of the present
slipped into gear with those of the past and the entire train moved on
smoothly. The final doubt was cleared away. Griswold was the man whose
story Bainbridge had told under the after-deck awning of the
outward-bound fruit steamer; and the story in all its essentials was the
same that Miss Grierson had told on the veranda of the De Soto. Broffin
knew now why there had always been a haunting suggestion of familiarity
in Griswold's face for him. He had seen and marked the "bloody-minded
nihilist" of Bainbridge's story when the two were saying good-by on the
banquette in front of Chaudiere's.

Broffin's right hand went swiftly to an inside pocket of his coat and
when it was withdrawn a pair of handcuffs, oiled to noiselessness, came
with it. Deftly the man-catcher worked them open, using only the fingers
of one hand, and never taking his eyes from the trio on the sidewalk.
One last step remained: if he could only manage to get speech with
Johnson first----

During the trying interval Griswold had been fully alive to his peril.
He had seen the swift hand-passing, and he knew what it was that Broffin
was concealing in the hand which had made the quick pocket-dive. He knew
that the crucial moment had come; and, as many times before, the savage
fear-mania was gripping him. In the cold vise-nip of it he had become
once more the cornered wild beast.

After the introduction to Johnson his hand had gone mechanically to his
coat pocket. The demon at his ear was whispering "kill! kill!" and his
fingers sought and found the weapon. While he was listening with the
outward ear to Bainbridge's cheerful reminiscences, the little minutiae
were arranging themselves: he saw where Broffin would step, and was
careful to mark that none of the by-standers would be in range. He would
wait until there could be no possibility of missing; then he would
fire--from the pocket.

It was Johnson w