k on the draw?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, can you draw your gun and shoot quickly--surely? If you can't,
you'd better have your gun in your pocket, keep him covered and at the
first sign, shoot through your coat."

Peter took out his revolver and examined it quizzically. "I thought you
said, Mr. McGuire," he put in coolly, "that I was not to be required to
do anything a gentleman couldn't do."

"Exactly," said the old man jerkily.

"I shouldn't say that shooting a defenseless man answers that
requirement."

McGuire threw up his hands wildly.

"There you go--up in the air again. I didn't say you were to shoot him,
did I?" he whined. "I'm just warning you to be on the lookout in case he
attacks you. That--that's all."

"Why should he attack me?"

"He shouldn't, but he might be angry because I didn't come myself."

"I see. Perhaps you'd better go, sir. Then you can do your killing
yourself."

McGuire fell back against the table, to which he clung, his face gray
with apprehension, for he saw that Peter had guessed what he hoped.

"You want this man killed," Peter went on. "It's been obvious to me from
the first night I came here. Well, I'm not going to be the one to do
it."

McGuire's glance fell to the rug as he stammered hoarsely, "I--I never
asked you to do it. Y-you must be dreaming. I--I'm merely making plans
to assure your safety. I don't want you hurt, Nichols. That's all.
You're not going to back out now?" he pleaded.

"Murder is a little out of my line----"

"You're not going to fail me----?" McGuire's face was ghastly. "You
_can't_," he whispered hoarsely. "You can't let me down now. _I_ can't
see this man. I can't tell Stryker all you know. You're the only one.
You promised, Nichols. You promised to go."

"Yes. And I'll keep my word--but I'll do it in my own way. I'm not
afraid of any enemy of yours. Why should I be? But I'm not going to
shoot him. If that's understood give me the money and I'll be off."

"Yes--yes. That's all right, Nichols. You're a good fellow--and honest.
I'll make it worth your while to stay with me here." He took up the
money and handed it to Peter, who counted it carefully and then put it
in an inside pocket. "I don't see why you think I wanted you to kill
Hawk Kennedy," McGuire went on, whining. "A man's got a right to protect
himself, hasn't he? And you've got a right to protect _yourself_, if he
tries to start anything."

"Have you any reason to believe that