ached for the lamp, put it on the table and lit it.

"Here, that oil costs money," Dudgeon snarled as he looked round. "Half
a crown won't cover luxuries--you'll pass over another bob if you're
going to waste my oil."

Durham resumed his seat without heeding.

"Do you hear?" Dudgeon exclaimed. "If you ain't going to pay, you ain't
going----"

He stood up as he spoke, stood up and took a step towards the table with
one hand outstretched to lift away the lamp.

Durham, looking round as he moved, saw his eyes suddenly open wide and
stare fixedly at the door.

At the same moment a voice rang through the room.

"Hands up, or you're dead men!"

Springing to his feet Durham faced towards the door.

Standing in it were two figures, one the yellow-bearded man he had seen
at Waroona Downs, the other a man of slighter build whose face was
entirely concealed by a handkerchief hanging from under his hat and
gathered in at the throat, with two holes burned for the eyes. Each man
held a revolver, the masked man covering Durham, the bearded man
covering Dudgeon.

"Hands up!"

There was the sharp ring in the voice which betokens the strain of a
deadly determination. The eyes which glanced along the sights of the
levelled weapon, aimed direct at Durham's head, were merciless and hard.
Unless they were the last words he was ever to hear, Durham realised
there was only one course open. He raised his hands above his head. A
side glance showed him Dudgeon standing with his arms up.

"Turn your back, and put your hands behind you," he heard the bearded
man say, and Dudgeon shuffled round.

A double click followed, a familiar sound to Durham--the click of
snapping handcuffs.

"Now, Mr. Detective, it's your turn," he heard the man say. "Put your
hands behind you."

The eyes behind the mask wandered for an instant from their aim to
glance at the shackled Dudgeon.

On that instant Durham acted.

Straight at the face of the man beside him he hit, and as his clenched
fist came in contact with the bearded face, he ducked.

A shrill cry came from the man he had struck, almost simultaneously
with the report of a revolver-shot.

Durham heard a scream of pain from Dudgeon, but before he could know
more there was a crashing blow on his head, and he fell senseless to the
floor.

CHAPTER X

"FOOLED"

In the dining-room of the bank Wallace, Harding, and Mrs. Eustace sat.

"I have no alternative," Wallace said. "My ins