sort of thing."

"I'll do it," said Hal, going to the telephone to give the orders.

While he was thus engaged, McGuire Ellis entered.

"Hello!" the physician greeted him. "What have you got there?
Revolvers?"

"Count 'em; two," answered Ellis.

"Gimme one," said the visitor, helping himself to a long-barreled .45.

"Here! That's for Hal Surtaine," protested Ellis.

"Not by a jug-ful! He's too hot-headed. Besides, can he afford to be in
it if there _should_ be any serious trouble? Think of the paper!"

"You're right there," agreed Ellis, struck by the keen sense of this
view. "If they could lay a killing at his door, even in self-defense--"

"Pree-cisely! Whereas, I don't intend to shoot unless I have to, and
probably not then."

They explained the wisdom of this procedure to Hal, who reluctantly
admitted it, agreeing to leave the weapons in the hands of Dr. Elliot
and McGuire Ellis.

"Put Ellis here in this window. I'll hold the fort yonder." He pointed
across the space to the reference room in the opposite L. "Nine times
out of ten a mob don't really--" He stopped abruptly, his face
stiffening with surprise, and some other emotion, which Hal for the
moment failed to interpret. Following the direction of his glance, the
two other men turned. Dr. Surtaine, suave and smiling, was advancing
across the floor.

"Ellis, how are you? Good-evening, Dr. Elliot. Ah! Pistols?"

"Yes. Have one?" invited Ellis smoothly.

"I brought one with me." He tugged at his pocket, whence emerged a cheap
and shiny weapon. Hal shuddered, recognizing it. It was the revolver
which Milly Neal had carried.

"So you've heard?" asked Ellis.

"Ten minutes ago. I haven't any idea it will amount to much, but I
thought I ought to be here in case of danger."

Dr. Elliot grunted. Ellis, suggesting that they take a look at the other
defense, tactfully led him away, leaving father and son together. They
had not seen each other since the Emergency Health Committee meeting.
Something of the quack's glossy jauntiness faded out of his bearing as
he turned to Hal.

"Boy-ee," he began diffidently, "there's been a pretty bad mistake."

"There's been worse than that," said Hal sadly.

"About Milly Neal. I thought--I thought it was you that got her into
trouble."

"Why? For God's sake, why?"

"Don't be too hard on me," pleaded the other. "I'd heard about the
road-house. And then, what she said to you. It all fitted in. Hale put
me right.