"But you
don't know what a hole you're in. We've got more than one string to
our bow. If you won't listen to one kind of reason, perhaps you'll
listen to another. Now, you're stuck on Jane Atwood."

Marsh sprang to his feet with an oath.

"Leave that girl out of this," he cried, "or I'll beat you to a
pulp!"

"Steady, Mister, steady!" exclaimed Newman. "You ain't bullet proof.
Handlin' a gun is part of my business, and you won't get two feet
from that chair if you make a false move. Sit down and listen to
me."

Reason quickly replaced the unthinking rage of the moment, and Marsh
sat down as the other directed. But his mind was made up to one
thing--Newman would not leave that room now except as a prisoner or
a dead man.

"That's the idea," said Newman. "You're helpless as a babe, and you
might as well acknowledge it. Now, listen to this. You're crazy
about Jane Atwood, or all signs fail. In fact, you probably hope to
marry her. She's a classy, refined girl, with a big purpose in life.
What's more, she's got peculiar notions of what's right and what's
wrong. If she knew her father was a crook, and that he died to
escape you, where do you think you'd get off? She'd never have
anything, more to do with you, that girl wouldn't. She'd devote her
life to somethin' or other to make up for her father's slip--that's
what she'd do."

Newman paused, and Marsh ground his teeth and waited.

"Now, my man," continued Newman, "another false move on your part
and the facts will be given to that girl, with absolute convincin'
proof. There'll be no way of talkin' her out of it. You'll be
through--that's all!"

While Newman talked, he had gradually leaned forward, deeply
absorbed in the driving home of this final threat. The muzzle of the
automatic had also slowly turned until a bullet would now strike
several feet to the right. Marsh had carefully watched for this
approaching opportunity and now he acted.

Like a flash, he jumped to his feet, swinging his right arm upward
and forward as if hurling something at Newman. Instinct was stronger
than training. The man's arms were quickly raised to ward off the
expected missile. Then, realizing that Marsh was upon him, he
endeavored to escape, but the powerful hands had already closed on
him. He was swung upward into the air, while bullets from the
automatic crashed into the walls, the ceiling and the floor, as he
tried to direct its fire at his opponent.

For the matter of a se