and.

"I'm not sitting on anyone's knee, Grandparkins," he said.

A bright purple ran over Van Diest's features in blotches and streaks.
He rose to his feet and held out a quivering forefinger.

"You pay very heavy to make fun of my heart, Mister Barraclough. If
you haf any senses at all you know that all mens wass the two mens--the
home man and the business man--and the one hass nothing to do with the
udter."

"Leave it at that," said Richard. "I'm not feeling altogether at home
just now."

"That was your last word?"

"My last word."

"So!" said Van Diest. "So!" His eyebrows went up and down and he
seemed lost in thought for a moment. Finally: "You go into the bedroom
now please."

He gave the order slowly and to Richard's hypersensitive ears it held a
threat of real and imminent danger. It sounded as the burial service
must sound to a man who stands upon a trap with a knotted cord around
his throat.

"No!" said Richard. "No!"

"The bedroom."

"No!"

An impasse. They stood like duellists trying to read intention in each
other's eyes.

Hugo Van Diest made the mistake of his life when he abandoned mental
force for violence. The hand he raised to strike Richard across the
face never reached its mark; instead he felt himself go tottering
backward across the room. There was not much force in the blow Richard
struck, but the science was good and he put his weight into it. Van
Diest took it on the point and as he measured his length on the floor
he saw Richard make a dash for the door which had remained unlocked
during the interview.

Ezra P. Hipps caught him on the landing outside and put on a jiu-jitsu
armlock which closed the argument and sent Richard staggering toward
his bedroom beaten it is true, but absurdly enough triumphant.

"Listen you," he gasped, his back against the panel. "You think I can
be made to speak--you're wrong--You think I can be tortured and beaten
and bullied into giving up the secret. You're wrong--wrong. There's
something inside of me that'll lick you, lick you hollow. Do your
damndest, my lads, my breaking point is outside your reach." And as a
Parthian arrow he said "Blast you!" and banged the door.

CHAPTER 29.

INDIVIDUAL RESOURCE.

A point of interest arises as to how long one determined girl armed
with a revolver can hold up three desperate men also armed and further
fortified by greed of gold. Your average tough is not greatly alarmed
by a pi