cher Monsieur Steinmetz._'

"'So?' he said, his little eyes contracting like a cobra's. 'Ah!
Monsieur knows my name?'

"'Among other things about you--yes.'

"'So!' The yellow face was turning grayer and harder every minute--liker
and liker to my likeness of it. 'And what other things? Has it never
appeared to you that this you do, have been doing--this meddling, may be
dangerous, _hein_?'

"He had changed his tone, as he had changed the person in which he
addressed me. Yes, he had certainly made up his mind. And his big right
hand was hidden inside his waistcoat, so that I could not see the evil
eye I knew was on his finger.

"'Dangerous?' he repeated slowly.

"'Possibly.'

"'Ay, surely; I shall crush you!'

"'Try.'

"'In good time; wait. You plot against me. Take care; I am strong; I
warn you. There must be an end of this, you understand, or----'

"He nodded his big head significantly.

"'You are right,' I told him; 'there must be an end. It is coming.'

"'So?'

"'Yes; I know you. You know me now.'

"'I know you. What do you want?'

"'To kill you.'

"'So?'

"'Yes; as you killed her.'

"'As I killed her? That is it, then? You know that?'

"'I know that.'

"'Well, it is true. I killed her. Now you can guess what I am going to
do to you--to you, curse you!--whom she loved.'

[Illustration: "THE GREAT YELLOW FACE LOOKED SILENTLY UP AT ME; AND
THEN--THEN IT DISAPPEARED."]

"The very face I had seen in my dream now, Bertie, the very face! There
was something besides the evil eye that gleamed in his right hand when
he drew it from his breast. Once more he spoke.

"'Yes, I killed her. I meant worse for you. You escaped that; but you
will not escape me now. Fool! were you mad to do this? Did not I hate
you enough? And I would have let you be. Ah, die, then, if you will have
it so!'

"His heavy right arm swung high as he spoke, and I saw the sharp steel
gleam as it turned to fall. And I twisted from his grip, and caught the
falling arm, and bent it till the dagger dropped to the ground. And
then, for a fierce, desperate, devilish minute, I had him in my clutch,
dragging him nearer the smooth, slippery edge. He was no match for me at
this I knew, and he knew; but he held me with the hold of his despair,
and I could not loose myself. Both of us together, he meant; but not I.
Yet I only freed myself just as he rolled exhausted, but clutching at
the tough, short bushes wildly, toward the brink, an