at last. "So that's your real opinion, is it!
That's what you've been thinking all along! Trying to use me to help
that precious convict lover of yours--eh?"

I heard him come another step nearer.

"I'll make you pay for this, anyhow," he snarled. "Sick at being
in the same room with me, are you? Then by God I'll give you some
reason--"

With a swift jerk I flung open the door and stepped in over the
threshold.

"Not this time, George dear," I said.

If the devil himself had shot up through the floor in a crackle of
blue flame, I don't think it could have had a more striking effect
on my late partner. With his mouth open and his face the colour of
freshly mixed putty, he stood perfectly still in the centre of the
room, gazing at me like a man in a trance. For a second--a whole
beautiful rich second--he remained in this engaging attitude; then,
as if struck by an electric shock, he suddenly spun round with the
obvious intention of making a dart for the door.

The idea was distinctly a sound one, but it was too late to be of any
practical value. Directly he moved I stepped in, and catching him a
smashing box on the ear with my right hand sent him sprawling full
length on the carpet. Joyce laughed gaily, while lounging across the
room Tommy set his back against the door and beamed cheerfully on the
three of us.

"Quite a little family party," he observed.

Joyce was in my arms, and we were kissing each other in the most
shameless and unabashed way.

"Oh, my dear," she said, "I hope you haven't hurt your hand."

"It stung a bit," I admitted, "but I've got another one--and two
feet." I put her gently aside. "Get up, George," I said.

He lay where he was, pretending to be unconscious.

"If you don't get up at once, George," I said softly, "I shall kick
you--hard."

He scrambled to his feet, and then crouched back against the wall
eyeing me like a trapped weasel.

I indulged myself in a good heart-filling look at him.

"So you've been sorry for me, George?" I said. "All these three long
weary years that I've been rotting in Dartmoor, you've been really and
truly sorry for me?"

He licked his lips and nodded.

I laughed. "Well, I'm sorry for _you_ now, George," I said--"damned
sorry."

If anything, the putty-like pallor of his face became still more
ghastly.

"Don't do anything violent, Neil," he whispered. "You'll only regret
it. I swear to you--"

"I shouldn't swear," I said. "You don't want to d