here is
something--something I have never seen in any other woman--something that
goes to my head. Oh, I'm not in love with her. I'm long past that stage.
One can't be in love for ever, and she is as cold as the North Star
anyway. But she has driven me mad, and I warn you--I warn you--you had
better not interfere with me!"

He flung the words like a challenge. His lower jaw was thrust forward. He
looked like a savage animal menacing his keeper.

But Lucas lay without moving a muscle, lay still and quiet, without
tension and without emotion of any description, simply watching, as a
disinterested spectator might watch, the fiery rebellion that had kindled
against him.

At length very deliberately he held out the revolver.

"Well," he drawled, "my life isn't worth much, it's true. And you are
quite welcome to take your gun and end it here and now if you feel so
disposed. For I warn you, Nap Errol, that you'll find me considerably
more in your way than Sir Giles Carfax or any other man. I stand between
you already, and while I live you won't shunt me."

Nap's lips showed their scoffing smile. "Unfortunately--or otherwise--you
are out of the reckoning," he said.

"Am I? And how long have I been that?"

Nap was silent. He looked suddenly stubborn.

Lucas waited. There was even a hint of humour in his steady eyes.

"And that's where you begin to make a mistake," he said presently.
"You're a poor sort of blackguard at best, Boney, and that's why you
can't break away. Take this thing! I've no use for it. But maybe in
Arizona you'll find it advisable to carry arms. Come over here and read
Cradock's letter."

But Nap swung away with a gesture of fierce unrest. He fell to prowling
to and fro, stopping short of the bed at each turn, refusing doggedly to
face the quiet eyes of the man who lay there.

Minutes passed. Lucas was still watching, but he was no longer at his
ease. His brows were drawn heavily. He looked like a man undergoing
torture. His hand was still fast closed upon Anne's letter.

He spoke at last, seeming to grind out the words through clenched teeth.
"I guess there's no help for it, Boney. We've figured it out before, you
and I. I'm no great swell at fighting, but--I can hold my own against
you. And if it comes to a tug-of-war--you'll lose."

Nap came to his side at last and stood there, still not looking at him.
"You seem almighty sure of that," he said.

"That's so," said Lucas simply. "And if you