sank into a deep leather chair that half
swallowed her.

"There's a janitor?"

"No. There's a janitress, a friendly old lady, quite deaf. She has seen
infinitely better days."

"To all intents and purposes, then," said Wilmot, and the trouble that
he felt showed in his face, "it's an empty house, and you shut yourself
up in it with some model or other that you happen to pick up in the
streets, and you don't know enough to be afraid. You'll get yourself
murdered one of these bright mornings."

"Oh, I think not!" said Barbara. "There's Bubbles, you know."

"Oh, Bubbles!" exclaimed Wilmot. "He doesn't weigh eighty pounds. This
Blizzard--look here, get rid of him. I can't tell you what the man is."
He laughed. "I don't know you well enough. But take my word for it, if a
crime appeals to him, he commits it. And the police can't touch
him, Barbs."

"Why can't they?"

"He knows too much about them individually and collectively. They're
afraid of him. Get rid of him, Barbs."

Wilmot Allen's voice was strongly appealing. The fact that he sat
forward in his chair, instead of yielding to its deep and enjoyable
embrace, proved that he was very much in earnest. But Barbara shook her
lovely head.

"You ask too much, Wilmot. My heart's in the beginning I've made. I've
got to go on. It's a test case. If I've got _anything_ in me, now is the
chance for it to show. You see, when I made up my mind seriously to try
to do worth-while things with my own hands, everybody was against me.
And the sympathy that I am going to receive if I fail to make good is of
a kind that's almost impossible to face."

"Then do me a favor. It won't interfere with your work, and it may be
very useful at a pinch." He drew from his hip pocket a small automatic
pistol. "Accept this," he went on, "and keep it somewhere handy as a
sort of guardian. It's much stronger than the strongest man."

"How absurd!" she said. "And what are you doing carrying concealed
weapons? I'm beginning to think that you're a desperado yourself."

He rose, smiling imperturbably, and laid the pistol in her lap.

"At least," she said, "show me how it works."

He explained the mechanism clearly and with patience, not once, but
several times. "Point it," he said, "as you would point your finger, and
keep pulling the trigger until the enemy drops."

"One every two hours," Barbara commented, "until relieved."

"May you never need it," said Wilmot, earnestly.

"I never shal