"Steady, now," warned Monte. "I mean just what I say. She can't stay
here and let you camp in her front hall. Even Madame Courcy won't
stand for that. So--why don't you get out, quietly and without any
confusion?"

"That's your own suggestion?" said Hamilton, tottering to his feet.

"Exactly."

"Then," said Hamilton, "I'll see you in hell first. It's no business
of yours, I say."

"But it is," said Monte.

"Tell me how it is," growled Hamilton.

"Why, you see," said Monte quietly, "Miss Stockton and I are engaged."

"You lie!" choked Hamilton. "You--"

Monte heard a deafening report, and felt a biting pain in his shoulder.
As he staggered back he saw a pistol smoking in Hamilton's hand.
Recovering, he threw himself forward on the man and bore him to the
floor.

It was no very difficult matter for Monte to wrest the revolver from
Hamilton's weak fingers, even with one arm hanging limp; but it was
quite a different proposition to quiet Madame Courcy and Marie, who
were screaming hysterically in the hall. Marjory, to be sure, was
splendid; but even she could do little with madame, who insisted that
some one had been murdered, even when it was quite obvious, with both
men alive, that this was a mistake. To make matters worse, she had
called up the police on the telephone, and at least a dozen gendarmes
were now on their way.

The pain in Monte's arm was acute, and it hung from his shoulder as
limply as an empty sleeve; but, fortunately, it was not bleeding a
great deal,--or at least it was not messing things up,--and he was
able, therefore, by always keeping his good arm toward the ladies, to
conceal from them this disagreeable consequence of Hamilton's rashness.

Hamilton himself had staggered to his feet, and, leaning against the
wall, was staring blankly at the confusion about him.

Monte turned to Marjory.

"Hurry out and get a taxi," he said. "We can't allow the man to be
arrested."

"He tried to shoot--himself?" she asked.

"I don't believe he knows what he tried to do. Hurry, please."

As she went out, he turned to Marie.

"Help madame into her room," he ordered.

Madame did not want to go; but Monte impatiently grasped one arm and
Marie the other, so madame went.

Then he came back to Hamilton.

"Madame has sent for the police. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Hamilton answered dully.

"And I have sent for a taxi. It depends on which gets here first
whether you go to jail or not,