digger, striking a dramatic attitude.
"I'm not the man to give an order a second time. Out you get, or I'll
drill a hole clean through you."

"One minute." The stranger shut the blade of his knife, which he placed
deliberately in his pocket. "One minute. Do me the kindness to lower
that pistol, and stand where I can see your face more plainly. I've no
intention of resisting--unfortunately I left my shooting-iron behind."

As the digger did not move, the stranger jerked his head now forward,
now back, now to this side, now to that, peering at the man who held his
life in his hand.

"Yes, it's as I thought," he said. "I've had the pleasure of seeing you
before, on two or three occasions. There's no need for you an' me to
quarrel. If we're not exactly pals, we're something even closer."

"You're wasting valuable time, and risking your life for no reason
whatever," said the digger. "You'd better be quick."

"Oh, I'm going," said the intruder. "Set your mind at rest about that. I
was only trying to think where I had met you--it was in a cave. You and
your mates knew enough to come in out of the rain. You had made a nice
little haul, a very nice little haul."

A look of the utmost perplexity came over the face of the flash digger,
and this was followed by a look of consternation. His arm had fallen to
his side, and he was saying slowly, "Who the deuce are _you_? How the
deuce d'you know where _I've_ been?" when the man who sat before him
suddenly pulled his hand from under the table and covered his aggressor
with a revolver.

"One move," said Tresco--the reader will have recognised that the
goldsmith had come to town--"one move, Mr. Carnac, and you're as dead as
the murdered men on the hill."

The tension on Gentle Annie's nerves, which during this scene had been
strung to the highest pitch, had now become too great to be borne
silently.

"Don't, don't!" she cried. "For God's sake, for _my_ sake, stop! stop!"

"Don't be frightened, my dear," said the goldsmith, without taking his
eye off his rival and antagonist. "If there's to be trouble between this
man and me, you can't make or mar it. Now, mister, kindly drop your
revolver on the floor."

The man did as he was bid, and the heavy falling of iron sounded loud
through the otherwise silent room.

"Right turn. Quick march." Tresco rose slowly, still covering his man.
"Open the door for him, my dear!"

"It's a trap! I'm trapped by the woman," cried Carnac, glar