shots. Motors
continued to hum past on Sheridan Road, and he could detect none of
the unusual sounds which accompany a disturbance of any kind. As a
result of having hundreds of cars pass his windows daily he was used
to the crack of bursting motor tires, or the back-fire in mufflers.
Marsh's trained ear had seemed to catch something different in the
two reports, but perhaps it was only imagination. He resumed his
reading.

Three soft knocks sounded on the hall door.

It was the usual signal, and Morgan was expected. Marsh laid down
the paper, and going to the door, threw it open. Instantly a small
figure leaped into the entrance hall and stood facing him with its
back to the living room door. A big army automatic held in a long,
thin hand, covered Marsh menacingly.

"Shut the door--QUICK!" snarled the visitor.

Marsh towered above the diminutive figure, and he thought with
satisfaction that with his bare hands he could crush it like an
eggshell. But it has been said that the invention of the pistol made
all men equal. Certainly at this moment the automatic in the small
man's steady hand more than offset Marsh's physical superiority. So,
though he smiled in contempt, he also diplomatically gave the door a
sharp push and it slammed closed.

"Now, we'll go in and have a little talk," his visitor informed
Marsh, and slowly backed into the living room.

Marsh followed.

A hasty glance showed the man the location of the big davenport.
Backing to this, he sat down, looking smaller than ever, and
motioned Marsh to a chair across the room. While Marsh seated
himself the little man turned down his coat collar and pulled his
cap up from his face. Marsh immediately recognized "Baldy" Newman.

"Now," said Newman, "you and me is goin' to have an important
conference on serious matters."

Marsh did not reply. He seemed quite at his ease, and not at all
interested. Nevertheless, both his eyes and his brain were actively
taking stock of the situation; watching for some slip that might
enable him to change their relative positions. Newman was leaning
comfortably back on the davenport, his legs crossed and his feet a
long way from the floor. Marsh surmised that there would be some
delay in getting the latter into action again. The automatic,
however, was still ready. Held firmly in one hand, the weight of the
barrel was supported in the palm of the other, the back of which
rested on Newman's knee. Marsh realized that when he