t's
rude to point?"

A twang like the snapping of a 'cello string brought his head round
sharply.

"Hands away from your side pocket."

It was less of an invitation than an order.

The speaker was a big, broad-shouldered American of the thruster
school, heavy jaw, black hair and hurry. He held his gun dead rigid
against his thigh and there was that in his eyes which foretold that
where he looked he could hit. This was Ezra P. Hipps.

"Set down and don't move--this thing goes off," he said.

Richard considered the proposal and the speaker and judged both to be
sound.

"Thanks," he said, "I'd like a stall for this entertainment," and
dropped into a chair.

The man who was standing behind Van Diest came forward and smiled
gracefully. He was sleek and too well dressed and gave the appearance
of being out of his natural element and ashamed of the one in which he
found himself.

"You remember me, Barraclough, old fellow," he said, swinging his
pistol as though it were a cane.

"I'm a terror for forgetting trifles," Richard replied sweetly.
"Remind me."

"Oliver Laurence. Met you in '11 at old Dick Harris' place."

"Good old Dick," said Richard in the spirit of the scene. "But as I
was about to remark, here we all are, gentlemen, and what happens next?"

Hugo Van Diest flickered his eyes at Auriole and asked in a soft
guttural voice:

"You prevail--yes?"

Auriole shook her head.

"Mr. Barraclough refuses," she said.

Van Diest drew in his breath between shut teeth and Oliver Laurence
sighed sadly.

"Refuse."

"'Fraid so," nodded Richard.

"You know vot is it dot we ask?"

"Perfectly, but if you'd care to repeat it----"

Ezra P. Hipps rapped his free hand on a chair back.

"Don't get fresh," he snapped, "we're after business."

"Sorry," said Richard. "Thought it was a kind of Wild West act."

Evidently Van Diest wanted to avoid a row. He approached the subject
in his most agreeable tone which sounded like a puma purring.

"Twendy per cent and a million pounds for der map. A man like you he
can't spend a million pounds in a lifetime."

"Don't be too sure," said Richard unwisely. "I might have inherited
the knack."

"Let's hear a price."

Richard turned to the American with a grin.

"Honestly," he replied, "anything you got from me would be dear at a
shilling."

The friendly quality died out of Van Diest's voice.

"We was very sincere, Mr. Barraclough."

"Oh, that's fine,"