ires
are crossed or something, because I can't get Central."

"Go and call one of the servants," she ordered. "Send him out for an
officer, and then return here."

Again the pair was left alone.

"Will you kindly answer one question, ma'am?" the man said. "That
servant fellow said something about a bell. I watched you like a cat,
and you sure rung no bell."

"It was under the table, you poor fool. I pressed it with my foot."

"Thank you, ma'am. I reckoned I'd seen your kind before, and now I sure
know I have. I spoke to you true and trusting, and all the time you was
lying like hell to me."

She laughed mockingly.

"Go on. Say what you wish. It is very interesting."

"You made eyes at me, looking soft and kind, playing up all the time the
fact that you wore skirts instead of pants--and all the time with your
foot on the bell under the table. Well, there's some consolation. I'd
sooner be poor Hughie Luke, doing his ten years, than be in your skin.
Ma'am, hell is full of women like you."

There was silence for a space, in which the man, never taking his eyes
from her, studying her, was making up his mind.

"Go on," she urged. "Say something."

"Yes, ma'am, I'll say something. I'll sure say something. Do you know
what I'm going to do? I'm going to get right up from this chair and walk
out that door. I'd take the gun from you, only you might turn foolish
and let it go off. You can have the gun. It's a good one. As I was
saying, I am going right out that door. And you ain't going to pull that
gun off either. It takes guts to shoot a man, and you sure ain't got
them. Now get ready and see if you can pull that trigger. I ain't going
to harm you. I'm going out that door, and I'm starting."

Keeping his eyes fixed on her, he pushed back the chair and slowly stood
erect. The hammer rose halfway. She watched it. So did he.

"Pull harder," he advised. "It ain't half up yet. Go on and pull it and
kill a man. That's what I said, kill a man, spatter his brains out on
the floor, or slap a hole into him the size of your fist. That's what
killing a man means."

The hammer lowered jerkily but gently. The man turned his back and
walked slowly to the door. She swung the revolver around so that it bore
on his back. Twice again the hammer came up halfway and was reluctantly
eased down.

At the door the man turned for a moment before passing on. A sneer was
on his lips. He spoke to her in a low voice, almost drawling, but in