perfectly right," he said. "Why should you think otherwise?"

"In that case," I replied steadily, "I should like to know what Mr.
von Bruenig meant by his remark about the 'future of Germany.'"

There was a short pause.

"Ach, Himmel!" broke out von Bruenig. "What does it matter? What are we
wasting time for? Tell him if he wishes."

"Why, certainly," said McMurtrie, smiling. "There is no mystery about
it. I was merely keeping the matter quiet until it was settled." He
turned to me. "The German Government have made us a very good offer
for your invention, provided of course that it will do what you
claim."

"It will do what I claim all right," I said coolly, "but I don't wish
to sell it to the German Government."

There was a sort of explosive gasp from von Bruenig and Savaroff, and I
saw McMurtrie's eyes narrow into two dangerous cat-like slits.

"_You don't-wish!_" he repeated icily. "May I ask why?"

"Certainly," I said. "With the sole command of an explosive as
powerful as mine, Germany would be in a position to smash England in
about six weeks."

"And suppose she was," interrupted von Bruenig. "What in God's name
does it matter to you--an escaped convict?"

His voice rang with impatience and contempt, and I felt my own temper
rising.

"It matters just sufficiently," I said, "that I'll see you in hell
first."

McMurtrie came slowly up to me, and looked me straight in the eyes.
His face was white and terrible--a livid mask of controlled anger.

"You fool," he said almost pityingly. "You incredible fool! Do you
imagine that you have any choice in the matter?"

Von Bruenig and Savaroff moved up alongside of him, and I stood there
confronting the three of them.

"You have heard my choice," I said.

McMurtrie laughed. It was precisely the way in which I should imagine
the devil laughs on the rare occasions when he is still amused.

"You are evidently a bad judge of character, Mr. Lyndon," he said.
"People who attempt to break faith with me are apt to find it a very
unhealthy occupation."

I felt utterly reckless now. I had done my best to delay things,
and if neither the police nor the Secret Service was ready to take
advantage of it, so much the worse for them--and me.

"I can quite believe you, doctor," I said pleasantly. "I should
imagine you were a dangerous ruffian from the intelligent way in which
you murdered Marks."

It was a last desperate stroke, but it went home with startling
effec