s in his throat. He examined these phenomena afterwards, and
decided in his own mind that they were assignable to fear. He came to
the belief which he cherishes until now, that he had to screw up his
courage pretty tightly before he could face the idea of confronting the
partners in rascality together. But here it may be observed in passing
that this kind of self-depreciation is a favourite trick with men of
unusual nerve, and is rarely resorted to by any but the most courageous.

Steinberg recognised him by the light of the gas-lamp.

'Good-evening,' he said, nodding. 'Barter's here, I suppose.'

'Sir,' said Phil, with recovered coolness, a certain light of humour
dawning in his mind, 'Mr. Barter is within, and I have no doubt will be
very happy to see you.'

Steinberg cast a sidelong glance at him, and entered. Phil closed
the door, and followed close upon his heels. Barter, with his pale
complexion fallen to the tint of dead ashes, sat huddled in the
arm-chair, staring white-eyed like a frightened madman. Steinberg stared
back at him in sheer amazement at his looks, and Phil, closing the door,
turned the key in the lock and pocketed it.

'Hillo!' cried Steinberg, turning swiftly round at the click, 'what's
this mean?' He measured Philip with his eye--a very evil and wicked eye
it was--and dropped back a step or two.

'What's this mean?' Steinberg asked again, his quick glance darting from
one to the other.

'It means, sir,' said Phil, with a glad tranquillity, 'that your
fellow-scoundrel, the courageous gentleman in the arm-chair there, is in
the act of making his confession.'

Steinberg sent one savage glance at Barter, and then dashed at him, and
planting both hands within the collar of his shirt, so banged him to and
fro that he would inevitably have done him a mischief of a serious
sort but for Phil's intervention. The method of intervention was
less tranquil than Philip's motion up to this time had been. He tore
Steinberg from his grip of the betrayer with a force he had no time to
measure, and hurled him across the room. He staggered at the door,
and his head coming noisily in contact with it, he slipped down into a
sitting posture with an expression suddenly changed from ferocity to a
complete vacuity and indifference.

Now Mr. Barter, scared as he had been, and shaken to his centre, had
begun to think again, and when he saw that Steinberg's chance in the
enemy's hands was less than nothing, that fac