social gathering, standing upon the hearth-rug with his
coat-tails under his arms. The professor, in whose face seemed written
the most abject terror, was talking. Tavernake now could hear every word
distinctly.

"My dear Elizabeth! My dear Crease! You are both too precipitate! I tell
you that I protest--I protest most strongly. Mr. Pritchard, I am sure,
with a little persuasion, will listen to reason. I will not be a party
to any such proceeding as--as this. You understand, Crease? We have gone
quite far enough as it is. I will not have it."

Elizabeth laughed softly.

"My dear father," she said, "you will really have to take something for
your nerves. Nothing need happen to Mr. Pritchard at all unless he asks
for it. He has his chance--. no one should expect more."

"You are right, my dear Elizabeth," declared Crease, speaking very
slowly and with his usual drawl. "This question of his health for
the future--at any rate, for the immediate future--is entirely in
Pritchard's own hands. There is no one who has received so many warnings
as he. Bramley was cautioned twice; Mallison was warned three times and
burned to death; Forsith had word from us only once, and he was shot in
a drunken brawl. This man Pritchard has been warned a dozen times, he
has escaped death twice. The time has come to show him that we are in
earnest. Threats are useless; the time has come for deeds. I say that
if Pritchard refuses this trifling request of ours, let us see that he
leaves this house in such a state that he will not be able to do us any
harm for some time at least."

"But he will give his word!" the professor cried excitedly. "I am quite
sure that if you allow me to talk to him reasonably, he will pledge
his word to go back to the States and interfere no longer with your
affairs."

Pritchard turned his head slightly. He was a little pale, and the blood
was dropping slowly on to the floor from a wound in his temple, but his
tone was contemptuous.

"I will give you my word, Professor, and you, Elizabeth Gardner, and
you, Jim Post, and you, Walter Crease, that crippled, or straight, in
evil or good health, from the very jaws of death I will hang on to life
until you have paid your just debts. You understand that, all of you?
I don't know what sort of a show this is. You may be in earnest, or you
may be trying a rag. In any case, let me assure you of this. You won't
get me to beg for mercy. If you force me to drink that stuff you